Ruthless
by Pointy Objects
Summary: Sanity is wearing thin, Alliances have been formed and broken, and then there were strawberries...FINALLY COMPLETED!
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1: Too Early to be Alive

"It's 4:07 AM, and for all you early birds it's ti-" 

Helga slammed her fist down on the annoying little device, wondering why she even bothered with it in the first place. She stirred, about three minutes later, well knowing that she'd eventually be awaken by that syrupy-sweet voice that sent glass shattering. Sitting up in bed, she heard footsteps coming up the hallway. Too Late.

"Helga!!! Are you awake?"

'The dead are awake now, Olga!', she said mentally. "Yes", she whined, sitting up straight, and stretching, listening to each bone crack in it's own rhythmic way.

"Well, hurry and get dressed, I've got breakfast downstairs for you.", she said, exiting the room.

Helga stepped over a large suitcase, a duffel bag, and two smaller versions of it, all strategically placed encircling her bed. 

The little clothes she let remain in her closet were the ones she barely if ever wore. She quickly grabbed a her old gym uniform, a red T-shirt, with North Hillwood High School Phys. Ed. Written in big black letters across the chest, and a pair of baggy sweat pants. Her favorite navy blue hoodie and she was ready to go. 

In regards to the suitcase she dragged it out of her room, and down the steps. The two smaller versions of her duffel bag was also carried down and placed on top of the suitcase accordingly. As for the duffel bag, it was thrown carelessly down the steps (it contained mostly shoes and clothes, nothing breakable).

In living in that house all her life, her parents never bothered to change any of the furniture. She walked into the kitchen, which was spotlessly clean, and looked at her breakfast. Two eggs, sunny side up (This was OLGA after all) and 2 strips of bacon. Of course, Olga was bouncing around the kitchen, living off her endless supply of perky.

"Eat up, baby sister. You've got to get going.", she said running water into and empty pan.

Helga stabbed at her eggs for a moment, before ingesting them. She side glanced at the clock on the wall, and imbibed the last of her orange juice.

"I'm gonna be late!" she said, with a mouthful of bacon. She ran outside and loaded the popped trunk of Olga's shiny Mazda Protégé with her bags and hopped in the front seat. Olga started the car and popped in a tape.

Now, the upbeat sounds of "You're The One That I Want", from Grease, wasn't what annoyed Helga. It was Olga's incredibly hindered driving. She looked up at the road, then at Olga, then at her watch, then back at Olga. It was 4:47, and the train left at 5:05 (train's leave at funny times…) That would barely give her enough time to get a good seat and find Phoebe. Helga growled slightly as Olga stopped dead on at a yellow light, that took it's own sweet time turning red.

"You could have made that!", Helga said, clearly irritated.

"Then, I would have gotten a ticket, and you would have been twice as late.", Olga said. She could tell Helga was anxious to get there, but she wasn't one to rush for much of anything. "Don't worry baby sister, you'll get there on time." she reassured her, smiling happily. 

They got there (eventually) and Helga leaped out of the car and pounded on the trunk of the car until Olga popped the trunk. She lifted out all of her bags and set all but the smallest one in a large pile of other bags thrown along side the train. She turned to close the trunk, but Olga had beat her to it. Without warning, Olga embraced Helga, and for the first time in along time, Helga hugged back. Over the past few months, Olga had been coming over so often, she might as well have lived at home. She'd acted as a mother and friend to Helga, despite their vast and complex differences. 

Olga (although she and Helga were more or less the same height, still towered her by an inch or so), knelt down, and looked her straight in the eye. "You have fun, okay? And be safe." she said, on the verge of tears.

"I will, I promise.", Helga said, simply. Olga waved, returned to the car, and disappeared out of the train parking lot.

"Hey Helga!"

Helga whipped around surprised to see Phoebe hanging out of the train's door, accompanied by a very upset train usher. 

C'mon, we're about to leave."

Helga ran up the ramp and avoiding the eyes of the usher, handed him her ticket and looked for a seat. The one bag she took on the train with her carried her CD player, a CD holder, 2 old issues of Newtype (her favorite magazine) and 3 Snickers bars (Hey, a girl's gotta eat!). She took a seat across from Phoebe, knowing better that the seat next to her was reserved.

"Is this seat taken?"

Phoebe looked up, smiling and turning that oh so distinctive shade of magenta. Helga had heard enough, and in turn, put on her headphones. The train began to move, and Helga pressed her head against the glass window. The scenery slowly changed from scenic early morning to treetops and country roads, back to scenes of the late morning city. She decided to stop trying to figure out what state they were in and just enjoy the view. Halfway through her Something Corporate CD, she began to doze off, she leaned her head back, and drifted off into sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Yo sleepy-head." 

Helga was compelled to immediately backslap whom so ever disturbed her slumber, and go back to sleep.

"What?", she stated simply, rolling over.

"Rest stop, you need to go?"

By this time, she had no idea who was talking to her or why he did so as if she were five. 

"Yeah, sure, whatever.", she said, extending her hand. She figured whoever this guy was he'd at least be kind enough to help her up. On her feet, she scratched the back of her head, mussing her hair more than it already was.

"Mornin' Sunshine!", Arnold said, loudly.

"Did everyone have a big cup of perky this morning?", she asked exiting the train.

The rest stop was…average, to say the least. The bathroom was packed with sweating, tired bodies, making the air tight and putrid. The "snack bar" was repulsive. Helga, now mostly awake, returned to the train, the only other passenger other than a few other people. She flopped back down in her seat and flipped open an old issue of Newtype. She buried herself in an article about the new Inuyasha Movie coming out early the next year.

"Whatcha reading?"

Helga glanced up and showed Arnold the cover. She knew before she even showed him that he had NO idea what it was. Of course, how could he? He'd lived in safe little Hillwood his entire life. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and better yet, everyone knew that it would stay that way until forever. Helga on the other hand had spent a year in Japan with Olga her 7th grade year, she'd opened herself up to a whole new world of literature and art. She decided to just hand over the magazine, she'd read it from cover to cover, and the boy could use some literary enlightenment. 

Eventually, the train resumed motion. Helga didn't bother telling Arnold to move, although she was very comfortable with the seat being all to herself. Either way, she figured the usher would tell him to go back to his seat. But even after a few minutes, he remained seated. After another 15 minutes, Helga decided to break the preverbal ice. 

"Are you going back to YOUR seat anytime soon?", she asked, trying not to be rude, although it was a habit.

"This is my seat. I've been sitting here for the past 3 hours.", he said, his attention riveted on the page.

"Oh.", she said. "Don't wake me up 'till we get to Brooklyn, okay?", Helga said, turning over, using her now limited space to resume sleep.

"Whatever…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That's all I can give today! I know it's a lot, but, oh well! I'm tired, and my little brother has a concert today (he's so cute with his little flute, just tootin' his little heart out!!!) So, I gotta go! Review! Bye!!!


	2. Chapter 2: Familiar Rooms

Okay, I get it now! I have to UPLOAD everything! I'm so slow! Um, just to clear up a few things:

1) Yes, I am Pointy Objects, I'd like to change my name back to PO, but I don't know how

2) I'm sorry Rachel West, I don't know how to get people to not have to sign in to review (because before, I hated signing in just to comment on a story)

3) Gwynn, yes, the beginning is VERY vague, I never know how exactly to begin a story. I promise, either chapter 3 or four will dig deeper into their "relationship"

4) AriesFaeries (did I spell it right?) Yes, I love Newtype! My friend Katie got me interested in them!!!

5) BellaMay76, I like putting the characters in different living situations, plus I've always wanted to go to Japan! Thank you for noticing!

6) FROZENsun, Thank you so much! I always get scared that I'm making Helga too nice or Arnold not nice enough or just screwing up their personalities!

7) DarthRoden! My first reviewer!!!! Thank you so much! I'm very glad to be here, and your instructions were very helpful (not to mention following ALL the directions!) 

I understand it's a little soon to be putting up the next chapter, but 1) I've got nothing else to do 2) I could use something to distract me 3) I won't get any sleep tonight if I don't. Okay, this one's called…"Familiar Rooms?". Enjoy!!!!

"Wakie-wakie eggs and bake-e!!!!!", Arnold said, a little too cheerfully.

"Olga I don't want anymore eggs and bacon…", Helga muttered out of her sleep.

"Oh stop it, I know you're faking!", Arnold said, snatching the jacket off her almost bare shoulders.

"Are we…"

"Yes, we are in Brooklyn, now get up."

Helga stood, the cracking escaping from her knees and hips, shadowed only by the obscene…noises coming from her curled back and outstretched hands.

"That is overwhelmingly gross." Arnold said, a look of nausea painted on his face.

"To you," Helga said, continuing the intriguing ritual. "To some the intricate of the body and dexterity of how it functions is quite…Hey!" Apparently, Arnold was not interested in the intricate or dexterity of anything, and had exited the train, before Helga could finish her philosophy on bone cracking.

Outside of the train, Helga listened with one ear as the chaperone (they were seniors, they didn't need 400 chaperones following them halfway around New York) explained the tedious procedure of boarding the bus that would whisk them away to their hotel. They could walk around, or unpack, or whatever, until 11:30 PM. If the hotel concierge found anyone sneaking in or out of the hotel after that time, they'd be in more than trouble. The bus was big enough for everyone to have a seat to themselves, though some denied the obvious privilege. As soon as the bus took motion, Helga shut her eyes.

"Didn't you sleep enough on the train?", Arnold said turning around in his seat, directly in front of her.

"I'm not sleeping." she said simply, keeping her eyes closed.

"Well, what may I ask are you doing?"

"Sigh. I want everything to be new. If I were to open my eyes I'd see every theater, every club, every store window. And when I decide to go out later, nothing will be new."

"Makes sense." Arnold said, turning back around, just in time for the bus to stop at the hotel.

The hotel was called "Ethan Hall Inn". Who Ethan Hall was, or why he was important enough to have an inn named after him no one knew, but what they did know was that the hotel was gorgeous. Even the outside was beautiful, with a fountain and the most wonderful shrubs in lovely intertwining shapes. The pillars were carved with such mastery, it would have given the Romans a run for their money. From outside the lobby windows were stained glass and hand-painted.

"Wanna go find someplace to eat?", Gerald said, breaking Arnold's artistic concentration with his unsatisfied hunger. 

"Sure why not,", he said, only just then realizing that he would have to walk everywhere, for the remainder of his vacation. It wasn't such a bad thing though, the streets were lined with stores, clubs, museums, everything. The city itself was literal eye candy.

Helga and Phoebe, on the other hand, were so utterly amazed with the hotel, they decided to go out later that night and spent the most of the day in the hotel. The lobby of the hotel was almost as magnificent as the outside. A large, glittering chandelier shivered as the door opened, making it sparkle and twinkle over the lobby occupants. Below was a large sitting area (often used for hosting formal business luncheons) near the elevator, fully furnished with large leather chairs and couches, accented by the cherry-stained coffee tables between each. Helga, bewildered as a young child in a toy store, walked alongside Phoebe to the check in counter and received a key to her room: 313, floor 3 room 13. Phoebe's room was on the same floor, but was different, evidently. 

The elevator was empty except for themselves, and an older woman with a tiny Scottish Terrier in tow. Exiting the elevator, Helga and Phoebe parted ways in the enormous hallway.

"I'll go unpack, and we'll meet up in your room, and think of…something, okay?"

"Cool."

Despite graduating near the top of her class, it took her a while to open the door. The key looked more like a credit card and had to be slipped in the slot, pulled out quickly, and the door opened. After finally getting inside the room, Helga decide to scope out the surroundings. In the forefront of the room to the left was a door. In side was a small walk in closet, with a few hangers already spaced perfectly apart. The bathroom door was further back to the right. There was a ceramic tub and a large vanity mirror that literally took up the entire wall. In the central "living" area, there was a queen-sized bed with a nightstand to the side. Helga dropped her bags at the door and leaped on the bed. After living her life on a too-small twin sized bed, it was nice to have a humungous bed all to her self. She suddenly remembered her plans to meet Phoebe and sat up straight on the bed. She immediately threw her bags (without unpacking) into the very back of the closet and ran out of the door. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Meanwhile ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"What is that, your third taco? Haven't you had enough?", Arnold said, ready to leave the outdoor eatery. 

"Look, here's how I see it," Gerald said, a mouthful of taco and Pepsi. "I haven't eaten since about five this morning, our time. Five in the morning our time is eight in the morning here, right?"

"Right.", Arnold said actually interested in Gerald's eating philosophy.

"So, it's about two in the afternoon here, which is eleven in the morning our time.", he said, in conclusion to his philosophical encyclopedia of modernized food consumption.

"So?", Arnold said expecting a little more than a lesson in the time zones of The United States.

"So, I'm clearly 3 hours overdue for lunch!", Gerald said, as though stating the obvious.

Evidently, Arnold had expected a little more. But that was their "relationship". Arnold, once the blind optimist now older, wiser and putting less of the world's problems on his shoulders and often letting the problems trickle down an let others get themselves out of whatever crazy situation they'd weaved themselves into. And Gerald, Arnold's right brain, often having to snap him back into reality. Yes they certainly were an odd couple, and somehow managed to keep other in track. Gerald learned to trust people more, and Arnold not to trust everyone. 

After one more taco (Gerald was very persuasive) they began to head back to the hotel. On the way back, Arnold and Gerald passed by a large theater with "West Side Story" in bright, florescent lights, that could be seen from far away. He remembered the play from 6th grade, and figured it would be better to see it live than from Mr. Turner's classroom. Gerald also found a store that caught his eye. Unusual as it was, the store that captured his attention was a clothing store. Now, Gerald was all up for style, but the store was no regular clothing store. This was a formal dress store, the kinds that make all their profit during homecoming and prom season. 

"What are you looking in there for?" Arnold asked. Gerald wasn't the tux and tie type. (A/N: Try saying that twenty-two times fast!)

"I figured we could get dressed up and take the girl's someplace nice.", Gerald said.

"Um, Gerald, the term "girl's" is plural, and only one of us has one.", Arnold said. It was true. Arnold's last girlfriend was the beginning of Junior year. Her name was Gina, some gigantic mountain of a girl whose dad was in the military, meaning she moved around a lot. A week before she moved to Wisconsin, they broke up. Not she with him, or vice-versa, they just decided to. Neither of them seemed to mind. She moved away, he moved on. 

"Oh c'mon, this is Brooklyn, the city of-"

"What is Brooklyn the city of?", Arnold interrupted.

"The city, of…we'll find out later.", Gerald said, brushing aside the subject." Point is, I will not rest until I find you somebody to take, wherever, okay?"

"Whatever.", Arnold said, sighing. He wasn't exactly interested in getting fixed up. He was just happy to be single and on vacation. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Angry-while (Meanwhile was beginning to get old)*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I'll see you tomorrow morning Phoebe.", Helga said, exiting Phoebe's room.

"Bye. See you tomorrow.", Phoebe said, closing the door as Helga head towards the her room. She was, after all, just around the corner. Helga had less of a hard time opening the door this time. She and Phoebe decided in the end not to go out, they'd be there for a while and had plenty of time to take in the sites. They stayed in Phoebe's hotel room, ordered room service and watched T.V. It was only 9:39 PM, but Helga was still tired. She figured, she'd better get a good night's sleep if she was going to go off adventuring the next morning. She lingered on the bed for a few minutes before heading off to the shower to bathe. She ran a brush through her sopping wet hair and sat on the edge of the humongous bed. After about 15 minutes, she turned off the light, and buried herself under the burgundy covers of the hotel bed. That is until…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nope, no more! That's all you get for now! It's 11:54 PM and I have a report in FIRST period tomorrow!!!!! EEEEPPPP!!!!! Goodnight, and review!


	3. Rules Of The Game

Wheee! Chapter 3!! Okay, um yes! Chapter 3, um I was supposed to say something…I can't quite remem- oh yeah! I am working on a one-shot, coming out sometime soon, because I have 2 weeks (15 days) of WINTER VACATION!!!!! Whoo-hoo! Um, it's supposed to be right after Olga's engagement (OLGA GETS ENGAGED) and I just wanna explore that whole dynamic, ya know Arnold helping Helga through her harder times and whatnot. Yeah, Yeah, that's about all. Here is my sorry attempt at a Chapter! Okay, here we go: "Overbooked??!!" 

Oh yeah, I've forgotten this for every chapter, I don't own Hey Arnold, I own nothing!!!

Arnold eventually made it up to his room, despite his extreme exhaustion. The woman at the hotel desk took her own sweet time finding his key, while smacking her gum much too loudly and saying every three seconds, "One minute, hun", in her thick New York accent. 

Arnold was too tired and way too lazy to turn on the lights and take a good long look at the beautiful room he was blessed to be staying in. He instead, merely turned on the bathroom light, allowing it to illuminate the rest of the room. Inside the bathroom were the normal bathroom commodities, lotion, shampoo, soap, drinking glasses, and the like. But the unusual item found neatly arranged farther down the counter were three bottles, shampoo, conditioner and body wash, all cucumber melon scented. Arnold never really stopped to think about them much, maybe the maids forgot it, or maybe it'd been put there as it was supposed to be. Arnold decided then to shower, and get in bed before he passed out from sheer exhaustion. He threw off his shirt and tossed it on the rather large queen sized bed in the center of the living area. Looking out, he noticed the crumpled comforter that his white T-shirt laid on. Again, he gave blame to the maids. He returned to the bathroom, and ran water into the tub, in preparation for his shower. 

*~*~*~*~*Frustrated-while( I should have a new one each chapter!)

'What if he has a knife? What if he has a gun? Maybe he'll just rob me and leave…yeah right. He'd probably hack me to death so no one will be able to turn him in. What if I get kidnapped!!! No, Helga don't think like that, think of how to get outta here. He's practically LIVING in that bathroom, so getting out through the door is impossible. We are on the third floor, I could jump out the window. Please, you'd never jump out of a window!…'

All these thoughts flooded Helga's mind as she waited in the dark for who ever this was to reveal himself. She'd already figured "it" was a "he" by many of "his" actions in the room so far. First of all, he didn't even bother to turn on the light. He's using the bathroom light to light up the rest of the room which is clearly three or four times as big. Helga practically had a heart attack when she felt something drape itself across her butt. Turning her head slowly and looked to see what or quite possibly who it could have been. Thank goodness, it was a what, not a who. A plain white T-shirt, thrown lazily on top of the bed…and her. Not a minute later she heard water running. Yes! This was her chance to get out of the room, go to Phoebe's, and call the police. She stood, slowly, in case he decided to emerge. She walked to the other side of the bed and towards the door, until the shower turned off. 

Helga panicked. She started towards the door, but figured he'd catch her in the hall and leave her strangled body there. Then she headed back to the bed, in an attempt to crawl under it, but wasn't able to get under. She eventually slipped back under the covers, again buried under them. She heard the door creak open, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Man, there's like no hot water." Arnold said, stepping out of the bathroom, in boxers and a towel. Being the guy that he was, he decided, since he was a lone in the room (snicker, snicker), he could sleep in any thing he wanted to, which in this case, was near nothing.

For some inane reason, Arnold decided then to actually flip the switch and look around, conveniently avoiding the left side of the bed. He eventually got bored, turned off all the lights, and climbed on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers. He was hot already, anyway…

I'm trapped, trapped with a possible hit man waiting until I fall asleep so he can murder me and carry my severed head around in Tupperware so it doesn't ferment or boil or collect flies. Wait, maybe I'm just hallucinating the whole thing. Maybe he has no idea I'm even in here. Maybe…oh Lord…

Arnold, in his sleep, had in turn rolled over. His arm was now draped across the bed, his hand over the edge of the bed. He slightly groaned, shuffling around a bit, but not moving much. 

"Okay, buddy, I don't know who you are, but I have a gun, and trust me I never miss!!" Helga said, jumping up off of the bed, threatening loudly in the dark.

"Wha' ?? What's going on?", Arnold said, sitting up in bed, looking at the silhouette of a woman standing across the bed form him.

"Get out!! Get out, right now!!!!", she screamed, not realizing what time it was or if the people in the neighboring rooms could hear her.

"Wait, wait. Hold on, I'm sure we can talk this out, just don't shoot me, okay?"

"Look bucko, the only thing we need to talk about is why your in my room, and why your not out yet!", She said, her hands still posed as a gun, hoping he'd think it was real, and would in turn, leave.

'Bucko?', Arnold thought, quietly in the darkness. "Helga?"

"Okay, you're a stalker, AND a hit man? Alright, I'm calling the police."

"Helga, it's me, Arnold. I'm not a hit man, or a stalker or anything-"

By this time, Helga had walked to the light switch and flipped it upward, revealing the truth of the situation, it was Arnold.

"What are you doing here? What are you doing in my room??"

"I'm…this is…what do you mean your room?", Arnold said standing up. 

At this angle, and in the light, he could clearly identify Helga, and her unique choice of sleepwear. She'd decided to don her self for sleep in a black tank top, and large pajama pants. To him, she wasn't badly shaped for her attire.

"Yeah, if you could direct your drooling gaze northward, that'd be perfect.", She said, finally getting a smidge of his attention. She wasn't one to say much, being as she had to restrain her gazes form Arnold's half naked body. "Now as I was saying, I went to the front desk this afternoon, and this is the key they gave me.", she said taking her key off of the T.V. "So, therefore this is MY room.", she said, taking a seat on the bed, marking it as her own as well.

"Well, I was at the front desk an hour ago, and they gave me this key, to this room, making it mine." He said.

"Well, it can't possibly be both of our rooms, now can it?", Helga said, defiantly.

"No, but-", Arnold began. He was interrupted by Helga racing to the door and shutting it behind her. He immediately sped to the door, grabbing his old white T-shirt and raced out the door. Hoping to get to the front desk before her, he ran to the elevators, and hoped in one just as it was closing.

Exiting the elevator, he saw Helga leaning over the edge of the front desk, looking rather angrily at the man standing behind it. He pointed to the room directly behind him, the seats and floor filled with their classmates, chaperone and what looked like some guy in a bell hop costume. Passing by him and walking into the sitting area, Helga said, "Stairs are always faster."

Their chaperone explained, with little help from the bellhop guy, that the hotel had overbooked, so everyone had to find someone to bunk up with if they'd been paired up with a guest outside the trip. Unfortunately, if you'd already been "stuck" with someone (Much like our favorite blondes), there was no way to switch with anyone else, and changing hotels would not only be costly but slightly ludicrous. Yes, it seems they were stuck. 

Back in the hotel, Arnold and Helga tried to come to some kind of a compromise. They were pretty good friends since about the 7th grade, when Helga dropped her obsession and loosened up a bit. But, like they (or just my mom) say, old crushes die hard. The crush was still there, it probably always would be, but the obsession itself was essentially gone. Which turned out to be a good thing. She became an all around nicer (Hey, I said nicer, not necessarily NICE) person. She'd gone out for near everything in high school (except cheerleading, and boy's lacrosse. She thought the uniforms made her look fat). And best of all, she had found a friend in a former enemy, Arnold.

"Look Arnold, it looks like we're going to be stuck together for a long time, so we'd better try and make peace.", Helga said, resuming her seat on the bed.

"I completely agree." Arnold said, trying to sound agreeable.

"First, a couple of ground rules. One, we will not use each other's property without asking, okay?", Helga said, making sure each rule was acceptable to both parties.

"Um, have you used the bathroom at all today?", Arnold asked.

"Yeah, so what?", Helga said, not seeing the nervous look on his face. 

"Um, nothing. Rule two?", He said, quickly.

"Okay, Rule two…um, no going through each other's things.", Helga said.

"Doesn't that go along with Rule One?", Arnold asked, unknowingly bringing the conversation back to the rule he'd already broken.

"Fine, the real Rule Two is no guests without prior knowledge given to the other party. So basically, don't bring any one in here without telling me first and vice-versa."

"Are you done, Madam Napolean?", Arnold asked, now tired of listening to her. 

"Napolean's wife was named Josephine, the first one anyway. And no, we have one more thing to discuss. The bed.", she said, assuming he'd understand what she meant.

"Yes. Yes, it is a very nice bed." he said, obviously confused.

"Yeah, great bed, who gets it?", she said, massaging the bridge of her nose.

"Um, we'll flip for it or something.", Arnold said, eager to get this over with.

Helga dug through her bag and pulled out a quarter. "Call it in the air."

"Heads"

Sigh. "Heads"

"No, no. I don't feel comfortable taking the bed, you take it.", Arnold said.

"No, you called heads, it landed on heads. Take the bed.", Helga said, beginning to argue.

"But are you sure?"

"Yes I am sure. Now go to sleep." She'd already gone to the closet and lifted out the extra blanket , and had begun arranging her bed on the floor. "Goodnight." she said, turning off the lights.

"I just don't feel comfortable. I mean, I'm the guy and I'm supposed to be the man and me taking the bed from the woman would not only be unethical, but wrong. Sick and wrong."

"Well unless you're hiding something from me, you are a man. And rest assured, you have nothing to prove to me.", Helga said, turning over. 

"Really? You really mean that?", Arnold said. He and Helga had been friends for quite a while now, but it was a rare commodity that she'd say something so honest and decent.

"Yes, I really do. And frankly, if you were to give up that bed, and I take it, I'd look like the whiny girl that takes advantage of the guy who thinks he has to be macho. So, ya see, we're all stuck in trying predicaments.", She said, sitting up.

"I didn't know that. Well, I've got an idea that possibly solve each of our problems. We can share the bed."

Helga sat up, resting her head on the bed. "As tempting as that sounds, oh and believe me it's tempting, I don't think I'd feel comfortable."

"Oh, c'mon don't flatter yourself. I'll sleep on top of the covers and you'll sleep under them. No physical contact at all, I promise.", Arnold said.

"Promise?", Helga said. The idea was solid enough, but there were a few shaky ends to loosen up. "Fine.", she said sitting on the very edge of the bed until he positioned himself on top of the comforters. She slid under the covers, more than a little unsure about the whole situation. She was lying in a bed, in a hotel, at age 18, with a guy she's practically worshipped since age 3, miles away from any sort of parental supervision…the whole thing itself was a accident waiting to happen. 

"Goodnight Helga."

" 'Night Arnold."

So here we have Arnold, a young healthy man of 18, in bed, in his boxers, with a not half bad looking girl, not that he thought of her that way, in a hotel, far from home…

"What were you thinking?", he thought.

"Number Three." 

"What do you mean?", Arnold said.

"Rule Number Three.", Helga whispered.

"Well what is it?", Arnold whispered back.

"Rule Number Three, no groping me in the night and then saying you had a bad dream."

"That should go double for you."

"Shut up."

"Good night."

~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Man, I'm tired. It's like 8:49 PM and I'm ready to sleep! What's up with that? Okay, review please, it makes my insides giggle. I hope the beginning wasn't too boring, or mixed up or stupid. Because if it is, feel free to tell me. Just try not to be too mean, cuz it makes my insides cry so much, all the water I drink gets pushed up to my head, and leaks up out of my eyes. Really, no joke! It happened, like Tuesday, and then again on Friday. On Tuesday, my friend was singing this really pretty song, and it happened, and on Friday, my friend let listen to this really sad song (There not the same person). So I guess I cry easily…that was way more than you wanted to know, so fell freer to skip this part altogether. BYE!!!! 


	4. One Down

CHAPTER 4! I was going to put this chapter up on Saturday, but thanks to a very special reviewer, I am posting it today! A big thank you to Twisted Renee, who put my story on their favorite stories list( I'm not a stalker, I just enjoy reading profiles…) But anyway, that really made my day, since the last list I was on was Worst Dressed in the 7th grade (Yeah, I try to forget about that…) Okay, this chapter is mostly taking place in the hotel, we'll be moving on soon, but my sister who thinks she knows everything because she's 21 months older than me which merits how I write MY fanfic, tells me to slow down (I don't mind y'all telling me, just her) my story so, yes, whatever. Enjoy! Oh yes, and I've never properly explained this, if any of you have ever been to hey-Arnold.com (you should seriously go! Not now, finish the story first!) There's a section where it has Frequently Asked Questions. Well, someone asked where Hillwood really is. And the reply was that it resembled many different places. It went on to list New York City, Seattle, and someplace else, I forget. But it seems as though EVERYONE make it New York. So, I decided to work a little outside the box and make them live in SEATTLE! Hence the tiring train ride portion of the summary. So, don't be confused, be happy! Okay, Now enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold. 

Chapter 4: One Down

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The room was immaculate. It probably wasn't even this clean before they occupied it. What time was it? 8:24? How did she manage to clean everything so early in the morning?

"You're awake.", Helga said, seated on the floor, taking this and that out of a small bag next to her. One of the items particularly upset Arnold. It was a standing vanity mirror and a palate of colors. Frankly, Arnold did not like watching girls litter their faces with makeup, particularly Helga, whom in his eyes needed no makeup. But, she went on unpacking, as if he weren't there.

"Please try no to mess up the room while I'm out. I spent half-"

"Out? Where are you going?", Arnold interrupted.

"I'm going out didn't you hear me?", Helga said, still focused on the task at hand. 

"Okay…", Arnold said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he was.

"Unless of course you'd like to accompany Phoebe and I in a little shopping…", She said letting her voice trail off. 

The only thing Arnold disliked more than animal tested cosmetics was shopping. For the life of him he couldn't understand why women got such a kick out of it. How spending the precious hours of life in a boutique or a store, purchasing a hundred of the same thing you already own and never use, or overpriced clothes that you could probably make yourself with two dollars worth of fabric and some thread, was enjoyable. "No, that's okay, really. Gerald and I are going to do some site seeing of our own.", he said, very matter-of-factly. 

"Good then we'll both be busy.", she said, turning around and standing up. "What do you think? Is this proper attire for strolling the streets of New York?" Casual was the theme for today. She'd decided to wear a smoky gray V-neck shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans that revealed the smallest sliver of skin. 

"You've looked worse."

Helga rolled her eyes at the sarcastic comment and walked towards the bathroom. "Oh yeah, Phoebe's coming over in a minute, so you might wanna put on a shirt or something."

"What happened to Rule Two? Ya know, the one about telling the other party before you bring guests into the room??!!", Arnold retorted, regretting it the moment he said it, knowing sooner rather than later that Helga would discover his breach of Rule One.

"I did tell you, just now…" Helga was at once cut off by something completely off the subject. "What happened to Rule One???!!! Ya know, the one about not using other peoples stuff without asking!!!", she screamed, coming out of the bathroom holding two identical bottles, both barely half full of green liquid. 

"There's a perfectly good explanation for why…"

"There is no more conditioner!!", she said, immediately walking over grabbing a handful of his hair and taking a short whiff of it. "Smells better in my hair anyway."

"I thought it was, ya know, one of the hotel commodities. That was before I even knew you were in here.", he said, in his defense.

"Ugh", she said, retreating back into the bathroom.

Knock, Knock

"It's probably the maid, can you manage to throw on some clothes and get that?", Helga said, harshly, from the bathroom.

Arnold pulled a blue T-shirt over his head and answered the door. "Yeah?"

"Oh Arnold, I thought this was…" Phoebe began.

"It is. Helga, Phoebe's here.", he said, calling her over his shoulder.

"Hey Pheebs, come in. I'm almost ready.", Helga said from the bathroom.

Needless to say, Phoebe was a little…uneasy about the whole thing. Here we have two people, in their late teens, sharing a hotel room, one who had harbored certain "feelings" for the other, and that other who'd been showing moderate interest on that one, now together, in a rather compromising situation. She tried to shake such thoughts out of her head, but as soon as the retreated, another one found it's way in and took up occupancy. The Bed.

First of all, there was only one. One bed. Two people. One Bed. Two people. 

"Can you at least attempt to make the bed? I cleaned up the whole room.", Helga said, peeking her head out of the bathroom door.

Maybe one of them slept on the floor. Or in the bathroom. Or maybe Helga came over to…borrow sugar?

"Hey, no asked you to clean up the whole room by yourself. Besides you slept in it too."

Phoebe let out a small whimper, still standing there in a state of shock. "Um, Helga. I'll meet you downstairs.", she said, more than ready to leave. 

"Phoebe, what's wrong?", Helga said, catching her at the door.

Phoebe's eyes then darted from Helga to Arnold who was attempting to make a bed, to no avail, then back to Helga, right before dragging Helga into the bathroom from which she'd just emerged from. 

Phoebe, what's going on? Why are you being so paranoid?", Helga asked.

(A/N: You have to read this part really fast, because otherwise it doesn't sound right. And if you don't like reading fast, find someone who does and pay them five dollars to read this part really fast! Thank you!)

"Okay, last night I saw you downstairs and I was gonna ask if you wanted to partner up with me, but I saw you and Arnold head upstairs really fast and so I didn't think much of it, but now I get it, but it's okay if you don't wanna talk about it. It's perfectly fine, I mean we could pretend nothing happened at all and-"

"Phoebe, you're talking in circles, spit it out.", Helga said, slightly baffled.

"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about…last night.", Phoebe said, now whispering.

"What about it? It's no big deal really.", Helga said, obviously not catching the drift.

Phoebe stared, worried that Helga wasn't taking the situation seriously enough. " Oh but it is a big deal. It's a very big deal."

"Phoebe, you are blowing this WAY out of proportion. Yeah, we were both a little uncomfortable at first, but we laid down a few ground rules, and everything turned out fine.", Helga said, reassuringly.

Sensing Helga's non-chalantness of the ordeal, Phoebe lightened up. "So you're okay with this?"

"Yes."

"And he's okay with this?"

"Yeah."

"And we won't have to worry about any "consequences", oh say, nine months from now?"

"You completely lost me Phoebe.", Helga said, finally catching the drift a millisecond after she said it. It was so simple. Anyone with half a brain would have suspected the same thing. "You think that.. That Arnold and I…NO!!! That's completely…NO!! NO!!!", she said.

"Well, let's recap. Last night. Meeting in the lounge. Pick Partners. I look for you, and you and Arnold are dashing up the stairs. Together. This morning. I come to YOUR hotel room. He answers. In his boxers. Hmmm, let mw think about that. Two people, a guy and a girl. In their late teens. In a hotel room. ONE BED. Yeah, that's about everything.", Phoebe said, smartly. 

"Okay. I know what it looks like. But that's not what happened. I didn't pick him for a partner, it just turned out that way. And, yes, we DID share a bed, but there was no physical contact, hardly if any verbal contact. Okay? That's all.", Helga said, in a state of slight shock.

"Promise?"

"I swear."

"Good, I almost had a heart attack.", Phoebe said, leaning against the sink. 

" I can't believe you'd even think that.", Helga said, nudging Phoebe's arm.

"Hey, you'd think the same thing if you were in my shoes."

Whatever. Let me get my purse, and we can go.", Helga said, exiting the bathroom sanctuary. 

"Okay."

"See-ya Arnold", Helga said, walking out the door. 

"Bye."

Outside the hotel, the streets bustled with cars, people on their way to work, business men, children in private school uniforms, and tourists, many like them.

"Ready?", Helga said, pulling her sunglasses up on the top of her head.

"Ready." Phoebe said, hers already perched on her head. 

Another Knockity, Knock

"I'm coming", Arnold said, now fully dressed in a loose fitting T-shirt, a flannel shirt, and blue jeans. He answered the door to find Gerald.

"Hey man, what's up."

"Hey, come in.", he said, stepping aside. 

"Dude, is this…yours?", Gerald asked, holding up a bottle of concealer as if it were underwear.

"No, it's…It's not mine.", Arnold said, not exactly thrilled at the prospect of telling his best friend that he was currently sharing a room with Helga. 

"Well there's only two reasons why a guy would have…", Gerald began, pausing to properly read the label. "Avon Brand Day Radiance Liquid Foundation."

"Oh, and what would they be?", Arnold asked, now properly prepared for another one of Gerald's "interesting" philosophies. 

"Okay, The Three Reasons why a guy would have makeup-"

"I thought you said there were only two."

"I added one just now! Stop interrupting! Okay Reason one, he's got serious vanity issues. That's definitely not you, Arnold. Two, he's got some serious acne, and that doesn't look like it to me, Arnold. And three, which may possibly be the only one that applies to you, he had a girl in here and she's using this to hide the hickies.", he said, as if he were the all knowing, all seeing Dr. Phil of Hotel Observations.

"Look, the maids. I've been finding a ton of stuff they probably left from whoever was here before me. It's no big deal.", he said, slightly aggravated.

"Look buddy, I was just playin'. Chill.", Gerald said.

Arnold took a deep breath, this wouldn't be easy. "Okay, ya know how some of the rooms got overbooked and two people got stuck in some of 'em?, Arnold asked.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Well, that's Helga's.", he said, hoping Gerald would catch on. No such luck. 

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I mean, I'd never fall for a girl like Helga, but I mean, whatever works for you. Oh and the whole "Overbooked" thing is a good excuse. Nice alibi.", he said, non-chalantly.

"GERALD!!! I'm telling the truth. And nothing happened!!"

"Yeah, well, alls I see is one hotel room, one bed, two high school kids, hormones, and a seriously jacked up bed. Looks like only one thing, my friend.", Gerald said. 

"Well, nothing happened, so…drop it."

"Sure buddy, sure."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Okay, that was chapter 4, hope ya loved it! I really have no idea how long this things gonna be, so stay tuned. That's about all, please review. Because without reviews, Pointy Objects doesn't have much to inspire her, and without inspiration, well the world, not to mention the foundation of this story, will literally come to an irrefutable and frankly…messy end. And we can't have that, now can we? No, no we can't! Sorry, I tend to over exaggerate things! BYE!


	5. Two to Go

Chapter 5! Chapter 5! Chapter 5! Yes! I'm so "pumped" to post this chapter! Despite the fact that it very well may be my least favorite chapter of the entire story, and it's not half as funny as Chapter 3 or 4. A humongous thank you to BellaMay76, one of my favorite reviewers, Vampire-Athena (spelling?), and any who I've forgotten. I'm not on the internet at the time, but I wish I could thank everyone!!! You guys are the best! Um, This chapter is supposed to be funny, yet slightly more romantic (I try) So read, enjoy, review!!!! Oh yes, and HAPPY 2004!!!!!!!

"Hotel beds are more comfortable farthest away from the phone."

I don't quite remember who said it, it was a quote on a poster in my schools health room (I'm there a lot…frequent nosebleeds) I just thought it applied, in this chapter.

"I always feel guilty after I eat one of these.", Helga said, lifting a large slice of pizza to her face.

"Then why do you eat them?", Phoebe said, carefully removing every sliver of radish from her salad, despite requesting the chef to do so beforehand.

"Because.", Helga replied simply.

"Anyway, what's the plan for tonight? How about we go…dancing!", Phoebe said, excited.

"Um, dancing…how about…no.", Helga said, taking for air from her thin crust pizza.

"Oh c'mon, you used to love to dance.", Phoebe said.

"No one dances ballet in a club!", Helga retorted, remembering walking back and forth to the Community Center every Tuesday and Saturday until seventh grade (Remember? She went to Japan!)

"But you have to come! PLEASE!!", Phoebe begged.

"Fine, I'll go! Happy?", Helga said, still messing idly with the crust of her pizza.

"Almost, Would you be terribly inconvenienced if Gerald were to accompany us?", Phoebe said, rearing back a little. She was ready for the oncoming threat of Hurricane Helga.

"Wonderful! Fantastic! I would love nothing more than to oversee the date of my best friend and her boyfriend! Really Phoebe…chaperoning?", Helga said, reeling back from sarcasm.

"What if you were to have a …a co-chaperone?", Phoebe said, hinting at the obvious little by little.

"Phoebe, I've known you since forever, and I know that right now you're hatching some grand master scheme that will unfold as the day passes.", Helga said.

"I'm not hatching anything! I'm just saying that you probably wouldn't be so lonely if you were to invite Arnold along with us.", Phoebe said, keeping her reputation as the all knowing voice of reason.

"You owe me."

AND SO THE CONVO GOES!!!!

"So uh, …how's the room thing going?", Gerald asked, smiling wickedly.

They'd decided they'd seen enough sites (Two) and sat down at yet another outdoor eatery to rest before returning to the hotel. Most of the time was spent by Gerald complaining about how uneventful his first night in hotel, and joking about Arnold's rather eventful first night in New York.

"I thought we were going to drop the subject", Arnold said, shooting him a glare much resembling that of Helga's.

"Okay, I won't say anything more about it, I swear.", He said, still smiling.

"Yes you will, I know you will, you know you will.", Arnold said sarcastically.

"And you know me too well. So, what's going on tonight?", Gerald said.

"Nothing as of yet…We should go out or something.", Arnold suggested.

"Cool. I'll give Phoebe a call and-"

"Hold on?", Arnold said, interrupting again. "Whenever I "chaperone" you and Phoebe's dates, sorta feel like a third wheel.

"So bring Helga or something.", Gerald said, again stating the obvious.

"Hmmm, let me think about that…no.", Arnold said.

"And why, may I ask not?", Gerald asked, traces of his evil smirk still on his face.

"Because," Arnold began, searching his mind for some sort of justification. "Because if Helga were to come with us, they'd spend all night talking to each other…and not you.", Arnold added.

"Frankly, I don't care if Helga doesn't talk to me, though I can't say the same for you.", he said. "And either way, Phoebe's going to ask her to come and if you don't come, I'll be stuck with the two of them, and if she doesn't come, Phoebe will be stuck with the two of us."

"What's wrong with us?", Arnold asked innocently, knowing very well what was wrong with them.

"Hmm, nothing really. I just figured that she'd rather jot listen to armpit farts and Lakers highlights.", Gerald said taking a moment to laugh at his own immaturity. 

"First of all, my friend, I haven't made an armpit fart since the seventh grade. And second, the Lakers don't even have a shot at the Playoffs, so going over their so-called "highlights" would be tedious and redundant.", Arnold said, finally putting his twelfth grade vocabulary to proper use.

"Whatever."

AND SO THE CONVO GOES!!!!

"Oh crap."

She suspected this would happen. She'd tried to do too much shopping in one day. Arnold would have an absolute field day with this one. She finally managed to get all four of her large bags into the bag of the closet, next to her own luggage.

Ready to enjoy a l o n g nap on the huge, luxurious bed that she finally had to herself, she literally dove into the center of the room. Instead of the soft, warm burgundy comforters breaking her fall, she plummeted onto an ocean of hard maroon carpeting. It felt as if the Red Sea had parted right under her, revealing the floor. Looking up she saw two (TWO!) twin sized beds, both with the same burgundy sheets and soft white pillows as the Queen bed she had before. The two beds were identical, separated only by the nightstand that was moved from the left to dead center. Sigh, oh well. She'd lived most of her life on a twin, she could survive this. 

Naturally, she figured that since she slept on the right side of the bed the night before, she would be sleeping in the "right" bed. Either way, she was exhausted, and in no time was sprawled out on the bed, asleep in minutes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Goodnight, Helga!!!~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Phoebe will call about half an hour before we're ready to leave.", Gerald said, exiting the elevator on the second floor, leaving Arnold one floor to think.

"Sure.", he said, the elevators cascading inwards, cutting him off. 'This should be easy.', he thought. 'Hey Helga, wanna go watch Gerald and Phoebe make out while we pretend to have fun?' Yeah, real easy.

In the room, Arnold retreated into the bathroom sanctuary, before hearing the phone ring. He ran to get it, disregarding the brown suede coat hanging neatly in the open closet. He immediately noticed the two (TWO!) beds now making the room look smaller, but reasoned to question it later, and answer the phone. 

"Yeah?"

"Hi Arnold, is Helga there?", asked Phoebe politely, knowing very well she was there.

"U, she's a little indisposed at the moment…can I take a message?", He asked, looking down at the sleeping Helga, who was obviously undisturbed by his lack of volume discretion. 

"No message. See ya later!"

He sat down on the bed across the room, which he assumed was his, being as Helga had occupied the remaining bed.

'Not a bad idea', he thought, kicking off his shoes and retreating swiftly into sleep.

(A/N: Hey, Hey where ya going? What? Oh you can hold it! Sit down! Yes, you, sit down, we're almost at the good part! It's not gonna be that long, calm down! Yes, you can go as soon as I'm done! Goodness…)

"Wake up…wake up…"

Arnold stirred, not moving much. His brain, and this voice told him to wake up but his body remained deaf.

"WAKE UP!"

Now his entire being agreed to move, sensing immense pain in the near future. "What?"

"Gerald called. He's on his way over."

She'd wakened him up for two sentences? It wasn't as if he was her and needed three and a half lifetimes to get ready to go out.

He slumped over the side of the bed and took advantage of Helga being in the bathroom to change. He replaced his wrinkled cotton flannel for a black button down shirt. He didn't bother to change his pants, no one would care either way.

"What'd Gerald say?", he asked.

"Nothing much. Just that he and Pheebs are on their way.", she said from the bathroom.

"Oh yeah, Phoebe called while you were asleep. She didn't leave a message or anything.", he said, vaguely.

"Ya don't say…", she replied, beyond uninterested. 

"I'll see you downstairs.", Arnold said.

"What? Why?", she said. She hadn't even hinted at Phoebe's "plan".

"Oh yeah, Gerald had something planned for him and Phoebe, and we're invited, so dress nicely.", he said, halfway out the door.

"Okay, see youuuaaAAGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!", she screamed, just before something was heard hitting the linoleum floor of the bathroom. 

"Helga? Helga what's wrong?", he said, leaving the door open, and rushing into the bathroom. There was a heated curling iron on the floor and a close to tears Helga sitting on the toilet.

"I'm fine, it's nothing." she said, quickly, her eyes focused on the floor.

"What happened?", he said, inching closer.

She lifted her left hand momentarily to reveal a bright red burn mark over the left side of her eyebrow extending down towards her eyelid.

"I'm fine really.", she said when his hand came a little too close for comfort. "Ow, don't touch it!"

"I'm not gonna touch it, hold on.", he replied, unraveling toilet paper and running it under cold water. He knelt down slowly, bringing the wad close to the wound. "This'll burn, but only for a minute."

"It already burns.", she stated, just before it made contact. 

After a minute of dabbing at the wound, Arnold took a look at it and spoke.

"As long as you don't put makeup or anything on it, you'll live."

"Thanks.", she said, finally making eye contact, wondering why he stayed at eye level with her, even after he was finished. That is, until…

"Are we interrupting something?"

Both Arnold and Helga jumped up, like two defendants before a heartless jury. 

"The door was open, and…"

"Let me get my things.", Helga said, interrupting Phoebe, and brushing passed Arnold and Gerald, blushing furiously. 

Gerald threw Arnold a questioning look and Arnold returned with a shrug, both gone unseen by Phoebe and Helga.

"Let's go!", Helga said, with faint excitement heard in her voice. 

The club, bar, whatever you chose to call it, was named "The Blue Screen Room*". Outside, there was a bit of a line, being as it was still early. They decided against a cab, since it'd be pretty tight with all four of them in the back seat, and no one wanted to volunteer to sit up front with whoever may have been the driver. The night was cool, not cold and the club wasn't far. Twice, Helga had been close to running into a lamppost staring at the sky.

"Hey, you guys, do they actually look at your birth date?", Gerald said, the youngest of the pack, set to turn 18 in exactly 23 days. 

"Don't sweat it, they only look at the year.", Helga said.

"And how, pray tell, do you know this?", Arnold asked skeptically.

"I just do.", Helga stated simply.

Sure enough, they all got in. The name evidently came from the blue light that was cast over everything and everybody inhabiting the club. The place wasn't too crowded in certain areas. Most of it was a dance floor, while the rest was tables and a long bar counter, with at least 5 bartenders running from one end to another. The music, coming from someplace hidden, was loud and lively. The song was a remix of some seventies disco thing, much to the excitement of Gerald, refurbished with too many bells and sirens and artificial noises. Halfway through he mass of bodies, Phoebe and Gerald got "lost". 

"Do you want anything?", Helga yelled, her thumb in the direction of the bar.

"I'll have what you having," he said, heading in the other direction to find a table.

"Two sprites, no ice.", Helga said, leaning on the bar counter. The bartender nodded and rushed halfway down the counter.

"Well, Well, what do we have here…"

Helga sighed through her teeth. This was one of the reasons she considered staying at the hotels. Helga remained silent and slid her money across the counter once the drinks came, only for it to be returned by a foreign hand. 

"I'll pick up this one.", said the voice, with a British accent.

"Your choice.", Helga said. She might as well have looked at the guy who'd paid for her (and Arnold's) drinks. As soon as she turned to look at him, she had the notion to turn back around twice as quickly. He was…alright looking, from an angle. Where or what the angle was is a different story, but Helga was more than ready to leave. 

"Where ya goin'? Just bought ya a drink."

"And I thank you, whoever you are, but I really must-"

"I'm John", he said, holding out his hand and smiling revealing two rows of yellow tinted teeth under a bristly brown mustache. He must have taken this as an invitation to introduce himself.

"Sam.", Helga said, trying to smile politely, shake his hand and distract her gaze from his mouth. She never told a complete stranger her real name, it was too risky. Instead she'd go by Alicia, or Michelle, or whatever name popped into her head. She quickly looked at his free hand, at a brown glass bottle labeled Sam Adams (Hence the name).

"So you, uh…"

Oh goodness, here it comes again. Helga turned back around, no longer feigning interest." I just remembered, I have to bring my friend his drink.", she said, putting extra emphasis on HIS.

"Where ya takin' off to? I got something for ya.", he said, his voice monotonously smooth and snaked together.

"Look, buddy.", Helga said, turning to face him. "If you're thinking of slippin' me a mickey or something, you can just slip it right back, get it?", she said. She went to grab Arnold's drink (she'd already been sipping out of the other one) when John decided to take it upon himself to put his dirty hands wherever he wanted.

Helga turned, balled the Five Avengers into a fist and sent it slicing through the air, meeting John's nose with a crack that scared the bartender, who'd seen his fare share of fist fights. 

"What took you so long?", Arnold said, when she walked up to the table and sat down non-chalantly.

"Oh, nothing.", she said, eyeing her reddened fist, mentally adding it to the list of her injuries that night. 

"How's your head?", Arnold said, leaning in so she would hear.

"Fine. Thanks again.", she said, lifting her glass a little towards her face.

"Hey you guys!", Gerald said, running over, with Phoebe in tow. "There' was a fight by the bar and evidently some guy got punched out and his nose is huge!", Gerald said, mentally explaining every gossiped detail.

"Is he okay?", Arnold said, with concern in his voice.

"I guess, he keeps saying something about a guy named Sam." Gerald said, now less interested.

"That's probably who did it.", Phoebe said, placing her and Gerald's drinks in the table. Evidently, they'd stopped off at the bar and caught a glimpse of the "victim".

"That's a shame.", Helga said, shaking her head, and smiling.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That is the END!!!!!! I like this chapter more than I did when I was writing it, but it's still not my favorite. It's much longer than the past few, which makes me happy. Oh well, as long as you enjoyed it! Yes, the comedy was at it's all time low, I tried to add some at the end, but to no avail. Sigh. I have to go back to school in 3 days!!! I'm kinda happy, and yet not. Being in school gives me a smidgen of inspiration, being as there are twice as many hormones in high schools as there are in my fanfiction. I have another fanfic in the works at the moment, but I'm not sure if I can handle two fanfics up at once. Oh well, I should go for it, right? Right. Okay, that's all, REVIEW PLEASE!!!! Bye!


	6. Globes and Maps

Chapter 6! Chapter 6! Chapter 6! Hahahahahahaha I'm so happy, I'm so happy! Not really, but I can dream, can't I!! Yes, before I proceed with this chapter, I must say a special Thank You to my friend, by pal, and my locker mate, Becca. A wonderful kind friend, who went behind my back and came on Fanfiction.net and sought out my story even though I gave her express wishes NOT TO!!! But it's the thought that counts. And of course to all my other reviewer's, I don't love you less, I just don't have to share a locker with you! So, chapter 6! Ya ready to read? Hope so, Because we ain't stopping for nobody! Ready, Set, Read!

Disclaimer: I don't own 1) Hey Arnold, 2) The Something Corporate Song "Ruthless", 3) The Something Corporate Song "Globes and Maps", 4) A Yorkshire Terrier, 5) My own phone line 6) A second earring hole, 7) A considerable amount of common sense. 

Chapter 6: Globes and Maps 

"You okay?", Arnold asked for about the millionth time that night.

"Yeah, just tired…", Helga remarked, despite the obvious sleepiness in her voice. 

"You guys…have a good time?", Phoebe asked, anxious to lengthen the conversation as long as possible in the confined space.

"Yeah", they both answered in unison. Arnold went on to stare at the opposing wall for the remainder of the ascent. Helga on the other hand, stood, her eyes jolting from here to there, as the cherry blush spread across her cheeks, accentuating the cinnamon freckles sprinkled over her nose. Outside the elevator, the three parted, Phoebe down one hallway, Helga and Arnold down another.

"You can uh…open the door, if you want.", Helga moaned, much too tired to bother with the key that often changed it's mind whether it wanted to work correctly or not. Inside, Helga took off her coat, and let it sit on her bed until SHE felt like putting it away. Unlike Phoebe, Helga decided to dress down for the night. Before awakening Arnold, she'd changed into a pair of black pants, the fabric unknown, and a purple cotton sweater that came down near the edge of her shoulder. Phoebe on the other hand, went in a dark blue top that bared a large portion of her back, much to Gerald's dismay. But after much begging, and pleading ( and a little more begging thrown in there somewhere) Phoebe agreed to keep on her matching blue jacket for the rest of the night. 

"Um, you can use the uh, the bathroom, if you want.", Helga stammered, sheepishly scratching the back of her head. 'What is wrong with me today,' she thought, finally mustering the courage to look at him. 'I'm probably just tired', she reasoned.

"No, really. Go ahead, it's fine.", he said, also avoiding her eyes. 

"Um, okay. Thanks", she stated, quickly, turning her back to him as she gathered her pajamas and headed into the bathroom.

For a moment, Arnold welcomed the silence with open arms, but after about a minute, it became almost petrifying. He quickly turned on the T.V., he'd been neglecting since he began occupying the room. He searched channel by channel trying to locate a decent program, that resided on completely different stations. He finally settled on a news program of some sort, reporting on a riot outside a grocery store. Oh well, it occupied his ears and that's all that was required.

Inside the bathroom, Helga attempted to dry her hair in the foggy, clouded mirror, with the hair dryer the hotel provided, but after her recent encounter with heated hair styling tools, she declined and opted to towel dry her hair instead. She put away all of her own things, so as not to cause an inconvenience to Arnold when he decided to use the bathroom. She eventually emerged from the bathroom obviously dressed different from the night before. Tonight, she'd decided to done herself in an immensely oversized T-shirt. Despite the fact that it clashed horribly with her oversized pajama pants, it wouldn't have been Helga to prance around all willy-nilly in her former nightwear. Especially in front of Arnold.

"Hey, what's that?", Helga asked, pointing to Arnold's left hand.

"Oh, I almost forgot I was holding it.", he laughed, passing the long white envelope from one hand to another.

"Well, where'd it come from?", Helga asked, growing more and more impatient. 

Arnold began the tedious tale of how he'd obtained his envelope. As they were leaving the "Blue Screen Room, Arnold was, as usual, lingering behind. Not far off, there was an older man struggling to get three very large suitcases into a taxicab parked on the side of the curb, and in the process, dropped a package of some kind. Of course, Altruistic Arnold came to the rescue, just as the man was about to drive off in his cab. 

"Thank You, young man, the older man said, under a bristly mustache and beard. "You should be rewarded for such kindness", he remarked, reaching into his coat pocket.

"No, no", Arnold protested.. "It's okay, really…", he began before seeing the envelope.

"Take someone special.", he said, just before…

"ARNOLD!!!!!!", Gerald yelled out, 

"Than-", , Arnold began, turning to where the old man once stood. Instead, he saw nothing, not even the cab. He, however, had no time to contemplate this phenomenon, being as Gerald was yelling his brains out at this moment.

"So, ya gonna open it?", Helga asked, heading back to the bathroom. 

Without answering, Arnold peeked inside the unsealed envelope and found two (!) tickets to the theater up the street's production of West Side Story. The production was being performed by the local college's Drama and Arts program. 

'Take someone special…someone special…', he thought, silently. The voice rang around over and over in his head, deafened only by the sound of running water.

"Hey Helga", he said into the bathroom, partially without thinking.

"Yeah", she replied, peering out from the side of the bathroom, causing her hair to fall to one side of her shoulder. 

"Um, what's uh, what's Phoebe's room number?", he asked, mentally slapping himself for being A) a wimp, B) a spineless coward, and C) a horrible liar. He would never take Phoebe, but figured that Gerald and Phoebe would have more of a use for the tickets than he would if he were to go out looking for someone to drag to a play. Unless of course, he didn't have to look.

Unknowingly, his gaze shifted over to Helga, who was now seated on the floor, arranging a stack of playing cards for a game of solitaire. It wasn't so much how she looked, because with the sopping wet hair that clung mercilessly to her neck and back and her way-to-big clothes, she was anything but "glamorous". It was more the way she carried herself, like no one was watching her. She was one of the people who wanted to be seen for so long, but was practically accustomed to being near invisible, that she sometimes didn't even see herself. But, in her own self assurance, she'd gained an undeniable beauty. It left him almost spell bounded. 

"So, you wanna be a doctor or something?", she asked, her back still turned to him.

"What do you mean?", he asked, still in his own little pretend land.

She didn't speak right away, just turned and lifted her long blonde bangs on the left side of her head, now revealing a slightly less shocking pink scar that seemed to shrink.

"Sorta. What about you?", he asked, directing the attention away from himself for a minute. "You got any career goals?"

"Do you HAVE any career goals…", she corrected, smirking wildly.

"Okay, English Teacher.", he said, sarcastically.

Out came one of Helga's real, true blue, genuine laughs. The kind that start in your diaphragm and work their way up to your heart, and eventually burst through your mouth, gracing the ears of all who heard them. She hadn't laughed like that in a long time. He eventually joined, his laughter not nearly as enjoyable as hers. 

"No", she said, after finally calming down. "I want to be a writer. A journalist, actually."

"That's cool. I mean. anyone can learn to be a doctor, but it takes something special to be a really good writer.", he stated, smiling.

"Thank You, that means a lot to me.", she said, her turn to stammer like an idiot. She looked him in the eyes and threw him a friendly smile. At least, it was intended to be friendly. But then again, people often got the wrong message about Helga. Because she was friends with more boys than girls, people automatically assumed the worst. But she just felt that she related better to boys, she didn't care much how most people saw her. She cared for a while how some people saw her, but not enough to have her change into the world's stereotypical girlie-girl. That really wasn't her.

~*~*~*~*~* About 2 hours later…~*~**~*~*~

After a rousing game of WAR, Helga was initially the first to retire into the oceans of sleep.

"Okay, Arnold. I am ready for bed. You can…whatever, just turn off the T.V., okay?", she yawned, stretching her ballet dancer's body and eventually crawling under the covers. 

"Okay, goodnight.", he said, turning off the T.V. just as a Mary Tyler Moore biography commercial came on, showing several different memorable scenes from her career, including one of her with her hair in the classic 60's flip hairdo sitting up in a bed with Dick Van Dyke in a separate bed, obviously a scene from the infamous Dick Van Dyke Show. Helga smiled as the T.V. screen went white then black. Arnold turned off the bathroom light that Helga had evidently neglected, and the light to the room. In the dark, he slipped under his own covers, shifting around rather loudly. 

"Arnold?"

"Yes?"

"Go to sleep."

"Goodnight."

"G'night."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thank you guys!!!! Oh yes, and I got the idea for the "Blue Screen Room" from an interesting place: My room. I had just finished watching Finding Nemo (It's the best!) and when I pushed the stop button, the screen turned blue. Well, when you turn off the lights, the whole room is blue, I mean everything. Hence the name" The Blue Screen Room!!! Cool, huh? Okay, it's 11:09 PM and I have Chemistry homework!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BYE!


	7. In and Out and Back Again

Doesn't it usually feel like you have more chapters than you actually have? Doesn't it? Fine then, don't answer me! Just stare at your computer screen, meanies! Okay, Chapter 7. I love this chapter, even I haven't exactly *cough, cough* written it, oh well! Time to go!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, and it's really starting to bug me!

Chapter 7: In and Out and Back Again

"It's burning up in here

Even though the bed is cold on your side

I'd rather die

Than spend this night here without you

Without you…"

NewFound Glory "It's Been A Summer"

Helga had reluctantly haunted the hotel room for the past hour and a half. She couldn't do much of anything without the risk of awakening Arnold. Several times that night he'd awakened, sitting up straight in his bed, claiming to hear a "noise". And because of such, Arnold proved himself to be an incredibly light sleeper. Phoebe had called earlier, stirring Arnold for the seven hundredth, forty-ninth time over the past 4 hours. Helga mimed her apology as Phoebe described how she'd planned on spending the day with Gerald. 

"No, it's okay, really.", Helga assured Phoebe, pressing her cheek against the cold surface of the hotel phone.

"You're sure your not mad?", she asked, just for insurance.

"Yes, I'm fine. Have a good time.", Helga replied, smiling.

"Okay, bye!", Phoebe piped up excitedly.

So, evidently, she figured she'd be doing this all day. After about another half hour of rearranging the hotel bathroom commodities by alphabetical order, and picking all the fuzzy things off the down side of the blankets, Helga decided it was high time to wake up this guy. She'd already tried the traditional approach, and she couldn't quite get the ancient alarm clock to function properly. So, of course, drastic measures were needed. She proceeded to slightly nudge him little by little off the bed. If he stirred, which he did several times, she'd immediately run into the bathroom, until he fell back asleep. She looked upon his sleeping figure for a moment. So peaceful, shame she had to do what she did. She continued to nudge, and nudge, and nudge, until…

"Ow!!! What happened?", Arnold said rubbing the sore spot on his head roughly, trying to figure out how he'd fallen asleep on a somewhat hotel bed, and had woken up on a adversely uncomfortable hotel floor.

"Something wrong?", Helga asked, from her bathroom retreat. 

"I don't know", Arnold muttered, still half asleep.

"Well", Helga said, peeking out from the bathroom innocently. "Looks as though you've, uh fallen outta the bed, there."

"You did this.", Arnold stated simply, a smidgen of humor in his tone.

"Arnold, I'm shocked.", Helga said, mockingly placing her hand over her heart and feigning a hurt expression on her face. "How could you even fathom that I would ever do something like that?", she asked, on the verge of her ever famous crocodile tears. Yes, those salty wonders had come to her aid more than enough times. 

"Whatever.", he retorted, surrendering into the bathroom from which she'd just emerged.

Helga sat on her bed and looked at the dead T.V. screen. She reached over lazily and grabbed the remote from the nightstand and flipped on the T.V. The screen depicted a court scene, two middle aged women fighting over property of some kind. Just as the bailiff was about to escort the women on the right out of the courtroom, Arnold came from the bathroom and spoke.

"Ish uh shame, chee-vee now-a-day-sh", he said, his toothbrush poking out of one side of his mouth.

"Oh, please, spit or gargle or…something.", Helga managed to remark, at the sight of the pale blue foam that encased the exterior of Arnold's mouth. The sight of any bodily "productions", so to speak, literally made Helga cringe. She practically gagged after watching "I Still Know What You Did Last Summer." But then again, she'd contradicted herself, after thinking about once sculpting figures out of gum that was once in that same mouth. She turned her head in the other direction, partially from blushing at the memory, the rest from utter disgust. 

After erasing that image from her brain, she decided to ignore the scenario taking place on T.V. and flip through the latest issue of T.V. Guide. She immediately sought out the crossword puzzle, and used the hotel pen to fill in the few she actually knew.

"Hey Arnold?", she called, without looking up.

"Yeah?", he replied, almost as loud.

"What's a four letter word for merge?", she asked, wrinkling her nose at the page.

"Uh,…um fuse."

"Oh, yeah…", she said, scribbling the word on the page. "How about a…twelve letter word for surly?"

"Hmmm, that's a hard one. Cantankerous. Does that have twelve letters?", he asked, stepping out of the bathroom fully dressed in a large black T-shirt, with St. Louis plastered on the front, and a pair of baggy khaki pants.

"Hold on…", Helga stated, counting out the words as she wrote them. "Yup, twelve. How'd you know that?"

"My Grandma likes crossword puzzles. She takes them on her expeditions to the Sahara or the North Pole, or wherever she feels like going that day so she doesn't get bored.", Arnold stated, simply.

Helga had already known (from prior encounters of the Gertie kind) that Arnold's grandma wasn't your usual knitting, cookie baking, cheek pinching grandma. Every occasion she had to visit his home, she was at once greeted with a warm smile, even though as soon as she stepped through the door, she'd no longer be Helga. Nine times out of ten, she was Eleanor Roosevelt, come by with urgent news from the President or something. 

"Hmm, I see.", Helga replied, not quite knowing much to say. In comparison to Arnold's family, hers was strictly Plain Jane.

'No or never, now or never, now or…'

"Okay, here's one for you. What's a three letter word for…" 'Now or never, NOW OR NEVER

"For what?", Helga asked.

" A three letter word for would you like to go to a play with me tonight?", Arnold said, rather quickly. 

"Really?", Helga asked, at first taken aback by the question, but finally getting a chance to answer.

"Yeah, I mean the guy, last gave me these tickets to the play up the street and I…"

"Yes.", she interrupted, not quite sure what to add on. The smile that lit up her face said enough. 

"Okay…", Arnold said, trying to hide his excitement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So, was Helga okay about it?", Gerald asked, slightly nervously. 

"Yeah, she was, um fine. Plus, she might have needed some alone time, or something.", Phoebe said, trying to avoid the subject, but inching closer and closer to it still.

"You know, don't you?", Gerald asked, his wicked smile returning little by little.

"Know what?", Phoebe asked, answering a question with a question. After a minute, she was forced to succumb to the truth. "Yes."

"Yeah, I uh, I found out yesterday.", Gerald began saying.

"Me too."

"Did you happen to, uh see the room?", Gerald asked, trying not to say what he was already saying, without really saying that he was saying what he was saying. 

"Look, I know what it looked like, but…"

"They said, 'No, of course not.'," he said, mocking the innocent tone in which Arnold used to thwart his accusations.

"I know my best friend and…"

"And I know my best friend.", Gerald smirked. His heinous smile had now taken his face completely over, making him resemble the Grinch, in more ways than one. 

"You're terrible..", Phoebe retorted.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"…And they just, yanked your hair out of your teeth?", Arnold asked, not quite believing this rather tall tale.

"Yes, what else were they supposed to do?", Helga replied in a fit of laughter. 

"I get that, but-"

"There's no but!", Helga interrupted. "Hair or braces, hair or braces. Hmmm, I think my braces are more important to me than a few strands of hair."

"I still for the life of me, don't understand why women chew their hair. It's disgusting!", Arnold said, in equal disgust as Helga's earlier in the day.

"Well, it's the same as…as you, biting your nails.", she implied, sitting up on her bed and reaching for his hand across the gap that separated them. Before quite realizing what she was doing she looked down and was running her fingertips over the edge of his shrunken nails. She had lost considerable track of how long she'd been holding his hand, until of course she let go. 

She cringed as the awkward silence once again invited itself in, residing here and there, worsening the situation. 

"So, what about you?", she asked, sheepishly staring at the floor.

"What about me?", Arnold asked, not quite sure what she meant.

"Any secrets you'd like to divulge? Anything you'd like to tell our studio audience?", she said, not intentionally trying to be as charming as she was. 

"Yes. Yes I do. My name is Arnold. I'm eighteen years old. I live in Seattle, Washington. And I am famished.", he said, turning to Helga.

"Hi.", she said looking straight forward into an imaginary T.V. camera and smiling widely. "I'm Helga Pataki, and I'm also eighteen years old. I reside in Seattle, Washington, and I too am about to die of hunger!", she continued, still smiling. 

"You sound like your in one of those beauty pageants, or something. ", Arnold said.

"I could never be in one of those things. It seems so…I don't know, there's something about them, that I just don't get", Helga remarked, her eyes darting from here and there.

"Like what?", Arnold asked, convinced that even if Helga did ever decide to do something like that, she'd have a clear shot of winning.

"Oh, Where to Begin*…, but no time for that, I'm starving!", she said, heading towards the closet to retrieve her coat.

"You wanna go out to eat?", Arnold asked, still seated on the bed.

"Of course. Why, did you wanna order room service or something?", Helga asked, as if she were asking if he'd like to lie in a bed of scorpions while balancing starved tarantulas on his nose. 

"Well…"

"You don't order room service for lunch! It's like eating coffee beans, or something!", Helga uttered. "But if you really want to, it's fine with me."

"No, I've been in this room too long, anyway." 

"If you don't want to go out, it's fine. Really.", Helga called from the closet, obviously putting her coat back.

"Ya know, you are so hard to agree with. You want to do something, I agree with you, and you change your mind!!", Arnold said, his tone louder than usual.

"Okay, one, I have the right to change my mind, being as it is _MY_ mind, and two, I only change my mind because I am trying to be flexible, and compromising.", Helga replied, trying to soften her tone a little.

"Well, here's the deal. I'm going to go down the corner, and get some food. You can stay here and be as 'compromising' as you want.", Arnold stated.

"Hey wait! It was my idea to go out!", she said, heading after him.

"So what?", Arnold asked, at the door. It didn't really matter to him whose idea it was to go wherever to eat, just as long as he ate.

"So, if I were to follow you to go get something to eat, then it'd look like I was…following you.", Helga said, realizing the absurdity of her own comment.

"Yeah…", Arnold said, down the hall. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*

As our favorite feuding fire headed, whatever, as Helga and Arnold argued angrily down the street, we find another one of our favorite couples heading in the opposite direction. Phoebe and Gerald had spent the past eight hours looking at the same sites that they'd both seen the day before, and were frankly, tired from the whole ordeal. Instead of taking the packed elevator to their rooms, they decided on the stairs, which wasn't exactly the best idea…

"What are you doing?", Arnold asked, looking across the table in the indoor eatery they'd chosen after deciding that there were 400 million McDonalds worldwide, and they didn't need to travel halfway across the country to eat another greasy hamburger.

"Picking out the beets.", Helga stated simply.

"You don't like beets?", Arnold asked, as if she were saying she didn't like…something everybody likes, but something I can't think of right now.

"No, I don't like beets.", Helga said, with the tiniest hint of anger in her voice. She didn't exactly enjoy talking about herself, which made her temporarily vear the subject in the opposite direction. "And you don't like…", she began, peeking onto his plate to see if he'd extracted any food from his meal. He had. " Carrots? You don't like carrots?", she asked, not really caring if he liked fried calamari and oriental rice crackers. (A/N: I love both!) 

"No, they're disgusting.", he replied, deliberately looking Helga in the eye and placing another tiny orange strand to the side of his plate.

"They're not 'disgusting.' They're good for you're eyes.", Helga said, picking around her food for a carrot, and upon finding one, munching on it loudly. "Mmmm,…"

"And beets are good for your colon.", Arnold retorted, mimicking her and chewing on a large red beet he' d found in his salad.

Helga shot him a fatal glare from across the table before speaking. "Well, if you want to go blind by the time your twenty-five, then that's fine with me.", she said, leaning over and scooping a spoonful of carots off her plate and onto hers, smiling evilly. 

"And if you want to have your colon flushed out every two weeks by the time your twenty-one, I couldn't care less.", Arnold said, reaching over the salt and pepper shakers to her plate, and picking out every beet she'd disregarded. 

Helga continued to look over at Arnold from across her plate. By this time, in practically any other situation, she'd probably be in the middle of a fight with whomever she'd been stuck with. But it seemed as though being "stuck" with Arnold wasn't really being stuck. Being stuck would probably consist of her never leaving her hotel room, or on the contrary, leaving her hotel room to escape the person she may have really been "stuck" with. But the fact that Arnold could be so cool about everything, about her, actually made this vacation bearable. For the most part, he dealt with her sarcasm, bitterness, and irritability with a considerable amount of self-control (and a little sarcasm as well.) Next to Phoebe, she probably couldn't have picked a better roomate herself.

"Hello? When people talk to you, the custom on this planet is to reply in some manner.", Arnold repeated, waving his left hand in front of her face.

"Ha Ha, oh that's funny. Are you ready to go?", she said, standing up.

"Um, that's only what I've been asking for the past 10 minutes!!", Arnold replied.

"I wonder what Phoebe did today.", Helga said, thinking out loud.

"If I know anything, they visited a maximum of four sites, and ate at every restaurant on the east coast, and Gerald is still hungry.", Arnold said, speaking from prior experience.

"Hey, what happened up there?", Helga asked, pointing to the ambulance parked in front of the hotel. Even from a distance, Helga could make out the tiny figure being lifted into the back.

"Oh no…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Okay, hope that served as an acceptable cliffhanger! I've been meaning to make a REALLY good one, and I hope this is it. Again, humongous thank you to all of the wonderful people out there in compu-land who take the time out to drop me a line!! THANK Y'ALL!!! I gotta go, it might snow tomorrow, which is good cuz I have FINALS!!!! Thank gooness my Chemistry final isn't until Wednesday, but it's still a final. And I'm sorry if this or any other chapter may have been a little "stagnate" as my tenth grade vocabulary is supposed to say, anyway, I guess…I don't know. Inspiration comes and goes for me, and when it's gone, they do nothing…at all. And I'm sorry, if it gets a little boring to read. I promise, next chapter will be, the best!! Okay, maybe not the best, I still think chapter three was the best one of this story!! But it'll be close, promise!!! So go, eat, drink, review, and be merry!!! 


	8. From Here

Chapter Eight!! 

Excuse my lateness for this coming up, I seem to have caught a bit of a cold. But seriously, I sound like a Backstreet Boy. Sorry if anyone likes them, but I do, and it's a bit of a problem, being as every time I answer the phone, someone calls me "Howie" or "Nick" or something. No one in my house has a cold, so I must have gotten it from that piece of crap excuse for a high school I'm forced to drag my half awake self to five times a week( actually, my sister drives me, but that's beside the point!) Speaking of which, this chapter is dedicated to my sister (she's in it! Shhh, don't tell her!) She doesn't really like Hey Arnold that much, nor does she understand my inane obsession with it, and she kinda has a habit of bringing it up in front of people who really have very little business knowing about it, but oh well. (Sigh) but anyway, this one's for you!!

Oh yes, and I forgot last time! Where to Begin is one of my favorite stories on FF.net and it's by one of my favorite authors, Zero to Hero, so if you don't understand why there was a little star next to it, you should read this chapter, review, and go to Search and look for it, because it's really good!

I don't own Hey Arnold (Or the shirt I'm wearing. It's my sister's Shhh…)

Chapter 8:

"In vain I blame my trembling on the cold air

But I can't hide that I've relied on you

Like Yellow does on Blue

And you're my 

Good feeling, I'm kneeling

Inside a room, She paints me blue

And you are 

My reason

For Breathing

Inside a room, She paints me blue again"

(The Best Song in the World) She Paints Me Blue

By: Something Corporate

"I feel terrible…" She'd stated this over seven million times within the past four hours, fifty-two minutes and thirty-one seconds. It was evident, she was feeling pretty terrible.

"Don't. There was nothing either of us could have done.", Arnold said consolingly. Nine times outta ten, such comforting remarks would have set the most nervous heart at ease. Not this one. 

"What's going on? It's been nearly five hours! Why haven't they told us anything?!!", Helga said, almost angrily, abandoning her chair and pacing the room anxiously. Evidently, Arnold's words had little to no effect on her in such a panicked state. "I'm not going back to the hotel.", she finally stated, her head bowed and back turned, her undying indication of defeat.

"What?", Arnold asked, not quite understanding the sudden change of tone that had occurred in Helga's voice. "Not going back? Why not?"

"My best friend is in the hospital, I can't very well _leave_ her here.", she said, leaning against the cold wall of the hospital. The waiting room was an overly furnished scene of pastel blue and white, made accessible only by the most hideous linoleum imaginable.

"That's very noble of you, Helga", Arnold smiled. 

And it's too late to go back to the hotel.", she said, sheepishly. She couldn't just waltz up to the hotel concierge at all hours of the night, looking the way she did, with her hair a mess and her clothes wrinkled, followed by Arnold, who was equally (as my sister says) "torn up" and expect him to believe that she really was at the hospital, tending to her injured friend.

"What? What time is it?", Arnold asked, his eyes darting here and there for a clock. At some point, his gaze may have shifted to his own bare wrist. 

"Ten till.", Helga state simply, not sounding too broken up.

"Midnight?!! We've been here that long?", Arnold asked, a little outraged himself. 

"Yes, we have", Helga replied, her turn to be the calm one. "Now, go to sleep. I'm gonna go check on Pheebs."

"But you don't know where her room is.", Arnold brought out, much to the disdain of Helga. 

"I'll find it.", she retorted, making her departure around a corner to the left. The hallway resembled the waiting room in more than one unattractive ways than one, from the blinding white walls, to the unsightly linoleum tiles.

Not quite knowing (or caring, for that matter) if what she was doing was "legal", Helga checked the tiny name plates on each of the doors. She came to the end of the hall and was disappointed to learn that Phoebe's room wasn't even on this floor. What was on the end of the hall was a sheet metal elevator, with a bright red sign above it that read "ELEVATOR". 

"Well duh, what else would it be?", Helga said to herself as she stabbed at the down button with her index finger several times until it opened. The elevator doors cascaded open, revealing no one. Helga smiled as the doors whooshed closed behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, Arnold sat, bored, in the waiting room just…waiting. Unlike Helga, with her short attention span and her constant confessions of boredom, Arnold was able to sit in one spot for a long period of time. Despite this, the clod, uncomfortable blue chair, the sounds coming from…somewhere (A/N: What is it with this kid and "sounds"?) and the occasional "ping" of a nearby elevator, it would have been hard for anyone to do much of anything, including sit…and wait. In a brief lapse of common sense, he rose from his chair, and walked inconspicuously over to the nearest elevator. Being as it was midnight, or close, he figured there would be no one in it. 

'After all', he thought. 'Who would be roaming around a hospital at this hour?' 

'Well…you.', his conscience said, echoing through his mind.

Unfortunately for him, that was not the case, proven by the very uptight-looking man, in a monotonous gray suit holding an equally dull black briefcase, standing in the wood paneled elevator. Inside, Arnold immediately noticed the number six lit up, signifying the dull-as-dirt man's destination. He hesitated a moment, not quite remembering what floor he was on. In following Helga as she ran block after block (literally) to hail a cab, direct it to a hospital unknown to them, and upon finding it, dashing in and, in a half panicked, half impatient state, right up several flights of stairs. Of course, Helga had more practice, being co-captain of the track team, which caused her to call in an impetuous tone, "HURRY UP!!!", down several flights of stairs, only to be answered by Arnold gasping for breath. Either way, he figured that anywhere was better than that waiting room, and resumed to just go wherever the wind (or in this instance, the elevator) took him. 

On the other end of the spectrum was Helga, looking rather puzzled at whatever floor she now found herself on. Either way, she began checking name plates, frustrated with everyone that did not read Phoebe Hyerdahl, or P. Hyerdahl, or Phoebe H., or something of that nature. Finally, she came across a room, to which the tiny black name plate read: Hyerdahl, P. She opened the door slowly, just in case she may have been asleep. 

"Helga?", came a voice from inside the room. The crack of the door must have given her away.

"Phoebe, are you awake?", Helga said, halfway in the room by now. 

"Ugh. How can anyone sleep in this place?", Phoebe said, leaning her head back on the pillow. She didn't look any different, besides her attire, which was an identical blue to the ones that were on the chairs in the waiting room. 

"Are you okay?", she asked, regretting the question moments after it flew out of her mouth. 'Of course she's not okay, Helga.', she thought. 'She's in a hospital, for cripes sake.'

"I'm alright, I guess. Twisted my ankle.", she said, ignoring the tiny television that sat on a mobile stand on the other side of the room. 

"How?", Helga asked, taking a seat on the cold, metal chair next to Phoebe's hospital bed. It wouldn't have been such a shock if it were her. She was used to being clumsy and falling over things, but not Phoebe, Phoebe was the epitome of coordination. 

"I fell down the hotel stairs.", she said, grinning. "They said I can go home tomorrow afternoon."

Helga smiled back. The tension had been lifted, knowing Phoebe was safe and smiling and would be back home in less than 24 hours. "So, where's Gerald?", Helga asked.

"He went off to get something to eat. I swear, his stomach is a bottomless pit.", she remarked, laughing. "So, where's Arnold.", she asked, mimicking Helga.

"In the waiting room.", Helga replied, mindfully ignoring the part wherein they had to stay in the hospital for the night to escape a verbal lashing from their chaperone.

Helga sat for a few minutes, entertaining Phoebe with the story of how she'd rushed up the stairs of the hospital in seconds and then had to wait at the top for Arnold, in his exhausted state. Eventually Helga was forced to leave, not wanting to be caught in the awkwardness of trying to say goodnight to Phoebe in between her "hello's" with Gerald. She'd been there once before, and it wasn't pretty.

After leaving Phoebe's room, she headed back towards the elevator, only to be intercepted by another body.

"Excuse me, are you lost?", said the voice, that had come from a MA, (medical assistant) from her badge, holding a clipboard and pen. She was of medium height, African American, with wavy ebony hair, that was tied back by a red headband (a nice contrast to the blues and whites of the halls) and that fell just past her chin. The top of her scrubs (as they are called) was a floral print, and the pants were a solid red. 

"I was…um, just…I was going to um…", Helga stammered. It wasn't like her to be intimidated by…well anyone. But despite her age, she seemed to have a stern, yet soft look on her face, with a hint of confusion thrown in there somewhere. "I couldn't find the bathroom.", Helga blurted out, without much thought.

"Um, the bathroom is down that hall," she began, using her pen to point down the hall. "and to the right."

"Thanks," Helga managed to say, her face covered overcome by a shadow of red. She ran, just in case the MA was still watching, into a bathroom to the left and jetted into a stall. But wait, did she say right? Or was it left? It was then that in Helga's rush to get out of sight from anyone who may have seen her performance in the hallway, she'd passed several funny looking things on the wall of the bathroom. 

Helga's eye's suddenly grew to the size of grapefruits at the realization of what she'd done. She was in the men's room!!!! She screamed mentally for a moment, and then began planning her escape. She peeked around from behind the locked door and quietly unlocked the stall. Halfway past the disgusting urinals, Helga heard the voice of someone (a man evidently, unless there were more eighteen year old girls who just happened to walk into the men's bathroom) and immediately ran back into _her_ stall and, after locking the door, stood on the toilet seat. She listened as "The Man", ran some water in a sink, and turned off the lights. She sat, in complete darkness, wondering how this could possibly get any worse. That is until she heard the turning of a key in the lock and footsteps walking away. 

Arnold, on a completely different floor (so he thought), walked around aimlessly, until he found himself at the Cafeteria. As soon as he stepped in, he was overcome with the smell of cleanliness. I mean _real_ clean, a counterpoint to the cafeteria of his school. He decided, after a moment of brainwork (A/N: I didn't make that word up! It's really in the dictionary…go, go and see for yourself!! Oh wait, finish the story first!) that as long as he was there, he might as well grab something to eat. After paying for his food (the little he decided to take with him) he looked for a seat in the large dining area, just beyond the cash registers. There weren't many people there, which was expected, but one, seemed to be awake as anything. 

"Mind if I sit here?", he said, putting his food down on the table, without waiting for a response.

Gerald looked up from his food, and gestured him to sit down, despite the fact that Arnold had began this process beforehand. In his chair, he tried not to watch Gerald as he finished…whatever it was he was stuffing his face with. "So, what's up?", he asked, after finishing his last bite. 

"Nothing. How's Phoebe?", Arnold asked, not bothering to touch his food. Oh well, he could just give it to Helga. 

"Much better. Her rooms on this floor, actually.", he said. "So where's Helga?"

"Um, she went to go find Phoebe, actually. Hmm.", Arnold said, opening a small bag of chips.

"What do you mean 'Hmm'?", Gerald asked, finished with his food, and possibly contemplating if he should get more. 

"I mean…Hmm. Is 'Hmm' supposed to mean something significant?", Arnold asked.

"Uh, yeah! The word 'Hmm' can have a thousand different meanings.", he said, acting as if he were quoting Socrates. 

"First of all, 'Hmm' is not even a word. It's barely a sound. And two, even if 'Hmm' was a word, which it's not, it would have no meaning, because it's not a word.", Arnold stated, recognizing his own ignorance in having an argument based on whether something is a word or not.

"You two are by far, the most complicated people I will ever come to know.", Gerald said, standing up. "I'm gonna go make sure Phoebe's okay. See ya tomorrow."

"Yeah, bye.", Arnold replied, remembering Helga's "mission" to find Phoebe's room. She'd probably returned to find him gone, and in turn, left. Either way, she'd eventually come back. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Stupid…ugh!!!! Come on!!!", Helga yelled out in the darkness. She'd used two hair pins, an earring, and even her hotel key (don't ask) to open this stupid door, and it still refused to give in. The only light in the room came from the crack beneath the door, and even with that, she couldn't see two inches in front of her. She tried banging on the door for a while, to no avail. She sat in defeat on the floor of the putrid men's bathroom. Despite the fact that she was wearing jeans, she still felt a chill from being in such a poorly ventilated area. She leaned over to the door, and waited for the sound of footsteps. At once, the door shook, as if someone were trying to jiggle the lock.

"Man, all the bathrooms are locked.", said the voice outside.

"Hey!!! HEY!!!! Hello??". Again silence. It seemed as though her last chance of salvation had slipped through her fingers. As soon as she was about to admit defeat, she fell backwards, her only back support snatched away, and lay on the ground looking up at a rather scruffy looking man.

Remaining what composure she hadn't lost after getting herself trapped in a men's bathroom, then falling at the feet of a complete stranger, she quietly thanked him and walked away. At the elevator, she was almost certain she'd come from floor four to floor six. Or was this seven? Inside the elevator, which obviously wasn't the one she came up in, she found it most logical to go to floor four, and if that wasn't it, proceed downward from there. 

'But then again,', she pondered, 'If I am coming down in a different elevator, wouldn't it be twice as hard to find the waiting room? And what if there was a waiting room on every floor? Simple, just go to every waiting room in the hospital, and find the one with Arnold in it. But what if he left?'

Each question or "What if?" found it's way into her mind and took up vacancy until another, more than likely much worse, came in and took up residence. 

Eventually finding her way to the fourth floor, she turned the all too familiar corner and there sat Arnold. She took her original seat next to him, acting as if nothing happened, as if she had just left to…use the bathroom (which, in reality, she did). She picked up a rather old issue of Advance: For Respiratory Care Practitioners, and flipped to a random page and stared, trying to figure out what MOD stood for. It was a while before either of them broke the silence.

"Find Phoebe?", Arnold asked, still absorbed in his old newspaper. Helga figured he aged at least twenty years, just from reading it.

"Hmm?", she replied, caught a little off guard by his question.

'Here we go again… "I said, Did you find Phoebe?", he repeated, purposefully speaking to her like a child. 

"Yes.", she said, not taking her eyes off the non-color page. Hopefully he wouldn't ask…

"What took ya so long?", he asked, still spouting questions, acting very much like he didn't care.

"Oh, you know." , she stated, not really having any desire to go into details her excursion through the hospital. "And you?"

"Oh yes, the same.", he said, trying to mimic her change in pitch and the grammatical errors that had freed themselves from her speech.

Helga couldn't believe it. She put down her magazine and looked him straight in the eye. "Are you trying to tell me, that you sat in this chair for…fifty-eight minutes, without moving at all?"

"Well, I'm quite certain I blinked a few times.", He said, smiling. It was so easy to antagonize her.

"You're a terrible liar.", she said, picking up her magazine.

"Are you calling me a liar?", he said, returning her questioning gaze.

"If the shoe fits…"

"Well rest assured, that while you were off gallivanting through the halls, I sat here and silently read the newspaper like a well distinguished gentleman."

Helga was listening intently, that is until she caught sight of a bright yellow bag, that was practically hanging out of his pocket, spilling crumbs on the worn out blue chair. "Really? Well, where did you happen to get these?!!", she said, snatching the bag out of his cargo pocket before he knew what happened.

"I bought those…at lunch.", Arnold stammered.

"I was there, you didn't buy any chips.", she retorted.

"Okay, so what? I went to the cafeteria. Is that a crime?", he said, astonished that he was beginning to sound so much like her. 

"Uh, Yeah!! Did you even bother to get me anything?", she said, serious. 

"Actually, I did.", he said, pulling a near crushed muffin out of his opposing pocket. He dropped it in her open hand and turned around, ready to sleep.

"Thank you.", she remarked, at the muffin. "What kind is it?"

"One of those fruit combinations or something. Cranberry Orange, I think.", he said, dozing off little by little.

She let it fall onto the table, and figured if she was hungry enough, she'd eat it in the morning. She moved her chair over a bit, and leaned her full upper body weight on one armrest, and feel asleep.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

"Hey, you guys? Hey, wake up!"

Helga shot up, a long red mark across her forehead, from where she'd positioned her head on the armrest. She awoke to find Gerald, standing over them, looking slightly puzzled.

"What are you guys doing here?", he asked.

"We…um, we thought that…that um…", Arnold said. He couldn't lie his way out of a paper bag.

"We came by early to see Phoebe, and dozed off.", Helga said, still very much asleep.

"Early? Whatever.", he said.

Helga immediately fled, taking her only source of food with her up to Phoebe's floor, and found herself at her room. Inside however, there was no one in the bed. Phoebe sat, in the same metal chair that she had last night. 

"Phoebe, what are you doing out of bed?", Helga said, confused.

"I'm about to go home. Why are you in the same clothes you were in yesterday?", she asked, sitting up straight. Her foot was bandaged up, but nothing that would keep her from walking without the help of the crutches that lay across the bed.

"Oh, I uh…", she said, disappointed that she'd barely been awake for two minutes and she was already on her second lie. "We came over early to see how you were doing. I thought they said you couldn't go home till this afternoon.", she asked steering the conversation in the other direction.

"It is.", Phoebe said, simply.

"What? What are you talking about?", the whole ordeal that had unfolded over the last few seconds had thrown her off completely.

"It's a quarter till two."

"In the afternoon?!!", she said, a mixture of anger and shock. "I have to, I have to go. I'll explain later bye!", she said, quickly exiting Phoebe's room.

#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

"I can't believe you overslept!"

"Um, as I remember it, you overslept too.", Helga said back. She was already angry enough and Arnold wasn't _exactly_ helping.

"Yeah, but for the past two days, you always wake up first.", he said, matter of factly.

"What does that have to do with anything?", Helga asked, not really looking at _him_, but scanning the streets for a store that sold whatever attire was appropriate for that of a play, even of it was just by a College's Drama and Arts Program. "In here.", she finally said, grabbing his arm and forcefully pulling him into the store without giving him so much as a split-second to object.

From the outdoor window, it seemed as if the store was split in two, one half tuxedos, the other half "Eveningwear", but the only logical explanation was it's angle to the sidewalk, because as soon as you steeped inside, it was obvious this store was intended to attract a more feminine crowd. Instead of devoting half of the store to each gender, a large portion of it was dresses and pant suits of every color known to man (and I few known only to monkeys) and the remaining area (approximately 1/3) of the store was tuxedos and suits. 

"Well, let's go.", Helga said, maintaining her grip and leading Arnold over to the tuxedo section.

"Why are we over here?", Arnold said, obviously dumbfounded. 

"Because, you need a tux.", Helga said, stating the obvious.

Helga sat, quietly watching as a man with a near fake mustache measured Arnold. While she sat, more or less unentertained by watching someone stretch bright yellow tape around Arnold's waist, began to eat the sorry excuse for a muffin she'd received last night. She figured if she was going to have to try on dresses, she might as well eat before hand. Just as she'd balled up the plastic wrapper and stuffed it in her pocket, the Measuring Man emerged from a door in the back of the store and promptly carried out a tuxedo with thin grey pinstripes going down the jacket and pants. Arnold eyed it from a distance, weighing in his mind if he liked it or not. 

"Yes, no…", he said, finally asking Helga's opinon. 

"Yes! Definitly! It's very…you.", she replied, feigning sincerity. 

"I don't know. How much is it?", Arnold asked the Measuring Man, completely disregarding his name tag.

"Two hundred and thirty-five dollars.", he said. "And ninety-nine cents."

Helga's face literally dropped to the floor, as her mouth began to move. "No! Definitly not! It's much too…P. Diddy!", she said, miming him to put the tux down…slowly.

"Is there anyway I can…rent it?", Arnold asked, slightly taken back by the price of some cloth and grey fabric paint.

"Yes, the rent charge is one hundred dollars."

Helga hesitated a moment, waiting for him to add on "Ninety-nine cents", in his stuffy, uptight voice. "Is that for _everything_ in the store ?", Helga asked. In her eyes, girls had a lot more to worry about in picking a dress, and if Arnold's was almost $250 (and ninety-nine cents) than her's had to be borderline $400.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay then, we're renting!!", Helga said, popping up out of her seat, already walking over to the "Eveningwear" section. She began to scan a rack of red dresses before Arnold eventually came over.

"What was that?", he asked, leaning on the rack, slightly perturbed.

"What was what?", Helga asked, stetching the elastic band of Arnold's temper much further than most would in such a situation.

"That! Back there! Did it occur to you that maybe I was planning to purchase that?", he said, trying to sound as believable as possible.

"Please? I saw your face when he told you the price!", she said, moving on to another rack. This one was draped in different (and frankly scary) shades of purple, which was immediately recognized by Helga, who moved on.

"What about this?", she asked, holding up a red-violet dress that strapped around the neck and across the back.

"I don't know", Arnold remarked, as Helga placed the dress over her shoulder and continued looking. Before long, she'd had almost seven gowns on her arm, and one or two on Arnold's. "I thought you only needed one."

"I do."

"But you have over ten!", he said, frustrated by her non-chalantness of the situation.

"Nine."

"Just in Helga, this isn't the Grammy's, you don't need four-hundred dresses for one night!!", he said, his intensity growng little by little, with each passing dress she picked up.

"Are you doing this on purpose, or are you really starting to sound like me?", she said, smiling widely.

"Don't flatter yourself.", he huffed.

"No, you do that fine by yourself.", she said, taking a ticket from the fitting room lady and walking through a satin curtan that divided the fitting rooms from the rest of the store. "Don't go anywhere.", she said, anticipating his next movements.

Arnold sat down, uncomfortable only by the look on his face and the uneasy way in which he slouched in his chair. 

"Ahem…", Helga said, poking her head out from the curtain, just to make sure he hadn't left."I think it's too long.", she said, her tone quieted again.

"Lemme see it.", he said. She had the utter enjoyment of watching him get fitted and measured, and would have loved nothing more but to see her in a dress four sizes to large and three feet too long. He was never a revengeful person, but every once in a while, it was nice to see Henry Higgins get his too. No such luck.

Helga stepped from behind the curtain, looking as embarrassed as someone wearing a chicken costume. The dress was a dark burgundy, and wide strapped on both shoulders. Each fell just beyond her collarbone to an elegant V-neck. She didn't dare turn around, too scared to reveal the low backline, criss-crossed by tiny red strings. No way could she wear this in publc.

Arnold had to admit, she didn't look _awful_ in it. She wasn't one to look _awful_ in much of anything. The color may have very well have been the only problem, somehow shrinking the size of her body and making her head much larger than it was. And the fact that, in truth, the dress was too long for her. By the end of the night, she'd have a grey line over the hem, and it'd be impossible to return.

"I don't know about the color.", he said, finally finding words.

"I know, it doesn't seem to work. Maybe thay have it in another color.", she said, more or less to herself, while walking back over to where she had found it.

Arnold, on the other hand, had decided to stay seated, while trying to mentally convince himself of something that his mind wouldn't let him. Since the beginning of this trip it seemed as though Helga had inadvertenly revealed several sides of her personality to him. Why she decided now to be as open as she had been, was a mystery and knowing her, it'd probably stay that way until they somehow were stuck together in ahotel room…again.

"Arnold? Hey-loo!!!", she said, now standing in front of him, holding two dresses. "I can't decide on the color."

If she knew him at all (which she did) his reply would consist of "It doesn't matter", or "Stop being so vain", or something like that. She never meant to come off as vain, despite the fact that she had over the past few days. But for some inane reason, she valued his opinion. There was no reasoning behind it, things for her just always seemed to run smoother if he added in his two cents. Or if she merely borrowed them. 

"The blue one. The other one doesn't look right.", he said, trying not to sound as if he put thirty years into putting it together, as he may have had.

"I agree.", she remarked, saying so wholeheartedly for the first time.

She gestured for him to take his tuxedo over to the cash register, while she cleared out the dressing room she just came out of. 

Exiting the store, Helga looked out into the early night air and waited for Arnold to emerge from the store. When he finally did come out it was time for them to get back to the hotel. They'd walked close to 7 blocks (more like ran) from the hospital to the store, so walking the short distance to the hotel, wouldn't be too hard. But, unlike herself, Helga resisted the insatiable Track Captain urge to belt down the sidewalk and walked, silently down the street. Next to Arnold.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

That's all! I'm done! Go away! Where's my Aspirin? Sorry, this cold is REALLY bad. 

That certainly wasn't a cliffy, but I don't care. I'm actually really happy with this chapter. I hope all of you guys are. And for Amelia Badelia, I can't say how often I'll be putting up new chapters, sometimes it's four days, sometimes it's fourteen days, it all depends on how I'm feeling and if I have the time. What I want to do is upload a bunch of chapters, and just put them up whenever I need to. Oh well, we'll see. Bye everybody!!! 


	9. West Side Strawberries

Chapter Nine is here for your visual reading pleasure!!!! Not much to say today…Oh and Jae B, that gives me an idea for the story (your review) Hmm…my brain is working now. Thanks for that!! Okay, on with the story! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

****

Chapter Nine: West Side Strawberries

"I am leaving in 10 minutes!!"

"You said that 10 minutes ago…", Helga said, non-chalantly. She'd (more or less) locked herself up in the bathroom since they'd gotten home. 

"Well, seeing as I have your ticket, I could very well leave this very moment, and you'll have wasted a hundred dollars.", Arnold said, flopping down on the bed, again. 

"Oh, pipe down! We'll be there on time, with plenty of it to spare, okay?", She said, now outside of the bathroom, and putting on her coat. "C'mon, let's go before you have a cow."

"Wanna walk, or flag down a cab?", Arnold asked in the elevator. There was no real reason for the question, merely to break the awkward silence that seemed to follow them around.

"I dunno, cab?", she replied, more of a question in itself than a "reply".

"Okay."

"I'll pay.", they both said, once again, in unison, despite that they were facing away from each other. This may have been one of those little signs that no matter how much their thought and opinions opposed that of the other's they would forever have a bond, a connection.

After standing in front of the hotel for exactly six minutes and being passed off by approximately four cabs, Helga smiled as one finally neared the curb, loud music pounding from inside. Helga slipped in, and slid over in the seat. She waited until Arnold got in before telling the driver where they were going. 

"The theatre up the street, please.", she said, shrugging at Arnold, not quite knowing the name of the theatre. Unfortunately, the music was so deafening, she wasn't quite sure if he heard her. The fact was solidified when the cab stayed in place.

"THE THEATRE UP THE STREET, PLEASE!!!!", Helga said, close to shouting this time. It seemed to work, this time, because he seemed to start the cab and proceed down the street. It wasn't until halfway through the car ride that Helga was able to adjust her hearing to understand the song that deafened the rest of the vehicle. Without really thinking about it, she began to stare out of the window, and lip sing the words, even though they were being sung rather quickly.

Arnold quickly took note of this and abruptly began to fidget. "Do you mind? It's kind of annoying.", he finally said.

At this point, Helga began to wonder if every action of hers really bugged Arnold. For a few brief moments during their vacation, it seemed as though Helga couldn't breathe, eat, drink, even blink, without it rubbing Arnold the wrong way. Despite her inward habit to come back with some smart-allecky comment to shut him up, she merely shrugged it off and continued to stare out of the window, until they arrived at the theatre, wherein her gaze turned to near shock.

Arnold, who stepped out of the cab first, seemed to notice the same, as he stood distraught at the sight outside the theatre. There stood about thirty college age kids, probably waiting for the play to start. But worse, may have been their attire. It was nothing like that of Helga and Arnold's. Everyone seemed to dress as if they'd just come out of class: jeans, T-shirts, sweatpants, as opposed to Helga's long gown and Arnold's tuxedo. 

"Think we overdressed?", Helga said, trying to lighten the mood. Seems like they both wasted $100.

"What do we do now?", Arnold said, turning back to Helga. The cab had already advanced down the street, leaving them on the curb, dressed for the Grammy's, but faced with those dressed for a Green Day concert.

"We go back and change.", Helga replied, stating the obvious.

"But we'll miss the play.", Arnold said, unintentionally sounding much more like Helga than previously intended.

"No, we won't.", she said, removing her heels and taking off down the street. Arnold followed, finally catching up as they neared the hotel. She disregarded the elevators completely as she soared through the swiveling doors and passed a few bellboys, heading towards the stairs. She'd told him once already that the stairs were faster, but he had enough running for 48 hours and hurried into an elevator. 

When he did finally get up to the room, still huffing for air, opened the door to find Helga fully dressed in a black and red sweater and black jeans. 

"Took you long enough, hurry up!", she said, looking up to see him standing a the door as if they had time to burn. 

For a moment he wondered if she'd let him use the bathroom today. She wasn't using it at the moment, so he figured that she was through using it. He grabbed his clothes from his open suitcase in the closet, and slipped in the bathroom. 

Helga, outside the bathroom, proceeded to fill her purse, that she sparingly used to begin with, with the few little things girl's had the insatiable need to carry around everywhere they went. Against her own vow to never look vain, she popped open a mirror and stared at the tiny red spot that found it's home just above her eyebrow. It wasn't hideously huge, or grossly gargantuan, just a normal sized little red bump. She didn't think much about it, and tossed the mirror back in her suitcase, closed it, and slid it back under the bed. She walked over to the closet, forgetting about the rush they were in, and put on her coat. Tapping ever so lightly on the door, she mimicked Arnold from earlier in the evening. "I'm leaving in ten minutes."

At that moment, Arnold emerged from the bathroom, slipped passed Helga and got his own coat from inside the closet. He made sure to check the coat pockets for the tickets, in fear of rushing back to the hotel and having to tear the place up looking for them.

Back on the same street, they concluded that walking would get them there faster, than would trying to get a cab and directing them to the same place they'd just been dropped off at. They, instead of walked, "power-walked" and in time, reached the theatre. By this time there was only a few of the remaining people standing outside, waiting for the show to start. Helga and Arnold passed them and handed their tickets to a guy not much older than them, behind a booth. Despite getting there two minutes before the show began, they managed to find seats close to the back, but with a better view of the stage than the ones up front. It wasn't until they actually sat down until Helga started to fell…funny. Not Saturday Night Live, Adam Sandler funny, the "Am I about to throw up?" funny. Which, in reality, isn't very "funny".

"These are good seats."

"Uh huh…", Helga replied squeamishly.

"You can see the whole stage from here."

"Uh huh…"

"Oh look, the curtain's rising.", Arnold said excitedly, pointing at the stage.

"Oh…", Helga said, literally gripping her stomach. She tried, despite Mt. Helen erupting in her stomach, to concentrate on anything besides her stomach. At some point, she found herself staring at the socks of all the Sharks, and mentally recording them. The last thing she wanted to do was walk out in the middle of a play. She, instead, did as Arnold had earlier in the evening, and told herself she'd go in ten minutes, only to repeat it ten minutes later. 

Halfway through Maria complaining about her white dress, the pain in Helga's stomach seemed to be shadowed by the itch that swept over her face. At first she'd brush it off casually, as if she were scratching her nose, but then, it seemed as though every part of her face itched so much, she practically had to rub it to keep it from bursting into flames. Arnold, as excited with the play as he was, couldn't help but notice. 

"What's wrong?", he said, a mixture of concern and fear for Helga on his face. All he could see in the limited light was Helga rubbing the palms of her hands up and down her face, as if in a trance.

Not being able to bear it much longer, she hopped over Arnold, who sat, dumbfounded, and out into the main lobby and searched for a bathroom to soak her face in. Arnold followed, only to see Helga, facing away from him darting from one end of the lobby to the other. 

"What's wrong?", he repeated, firmer this time. 

"I don't know, my face is just killing me, I don't get it!!!", Helga said, turning around to reveal the problem.

Arnold's eyes reached the size of golf balls before he was able to speak clearly. Helga's face was red. RED. I mean R-E-D, beet red, she was a walking raspberry. Among the R-E-D that covered her face from chin to forehead, were smaller darker bumps. "Helga…do you have a…a mirror?", Arnold asked, expecting her to scream before she even saw the extent of it.

"No, I don't carry mirrors.", Helga said, slowly calming down, but still in pain. Part of her may have very well regretted tossing her mirror earlier in the night, seeing as Arnold's eyes usually didn't bug out over nothing.

"You might want to look in one.", Arnold said. 

Immediately, Helga rushed outside and stared at a poster that advertised the play, displayed in a glass case. She restrained herself from screaming until after turning away and looking at it again. She began to whimper, half out of the mere sight of her rose-colored face, the other half out of sheer, unadulterated pain. 

"Look, you have to go to the hospital.", Arnold said. Whatever was wrong with her wasn't going to go away with just some Vicks Vapo-Rub and Chicken Soup. 

"No, it's…nothing.", she replied, trying to convince herself of the same thing, but doing a rather terrible job at it.

"At least let me see your hand.", he said, the plan being formulated little by little in his brain. Helga was just tiny enough for his plan to fall through. 

Helga, like the impressionable person she was, held out her hand and figured it was just one of those "doctor" things. That is, until…

Arnold took her wrist and swung it behind his own neck, hoisting her up into the air, and draping her tiny frame over his shoulder. She could have easily wiggled her way out of his grasp, had he not gripped his other arm on the crease of her knees, and began to walk steadily out passed the ticket booth. Helga immediately began to kick and scream, so vigorously, that one of her shoes came off, revealing the hint of gray on the palm of her foot from running to the hotel barefoot earlier. The pain of her stomach only worsened from the pressure she received from Arnold's shoulder. After a block of stares from innocent passersby, and yelling "Put me down!!", almost endlessly, Helga finally surrendered, mostly out of exhaustion. Being in pain can get rather tiring. 

Arnold on the other hand, was forced to stop every once and a while to ask which way the hospital was. Even after arriving at the hospital, Helga remained limp over his shoulder, as he questioned every nurse on the direction of the Emergency Room. It must have been the one day of the year where everyone was healthy or just packed into the lobbies of the hospital, because when Arnold arrived through the automatic doors, only three people sat in the waiting room, and all but one were being attended to. Even though carrying Helga the short distance couldn't be titled strenuous, he sat her down on a similar blue chair, and rushed up to the desk and rang the tiny bell a few times to get the nurses attention. 

"What can I help you with?", she said. The woman was in her mid-forties, with frizzy blonde hair. 

"My friend…there's something wrong with her.", Arnold said, nervously. He was no brain surgeon, but could clearly tell when something was wrong with someone.

"Let's take a look", she said, sensing his anxiety, and walking from behind the counter and over to where Arnold was pointing. She immediately looked at Helga, in her sleeping state, and pulled out a small flashlight/pen. She pried open Helga's eyelids with her thumb and index finger, and shone the light in them. "Well, her pupils are dilating, but this…rash, I've never seen one like this in awhile. Has she eaten any unusual foods within the past few days?", she asked.

"Not that I know of.", Arnold replied, slightly disappointed that he wasn't able to diagnose Helga, and could do little to help. 

"Well here,", she began. "Can you get her into this room over here, I'll send in Dr. Holmes.", she said, returning to the desk and paging the Emergency Clinic for him. Arnold again, lifted Helga over his shoulder, this time the task being more difficult, being as she had little control over which way her body weight was directed. 

Inside the room was a regular looking hospital seat/cot, the kind used to test reflexes and blood pressure. The only way to put her on the seat, and keep her there without falling, was to lay her lengthways, and pray she didn't roll over. With one end of the cot elevated, her chin fell solemnly towards her chest, but fell in such a way that it almost frightened Arnold. Figuring he'd already moved her enough, he sat in a seat near the door and waited for Dr. Holmes to come in. 

Dr. Holmes, eventually walked in, with a file tucked under her arm and arranged her glasses on her nose to better see Helga. She went flipping through the manila folder, and pulled out a form, and handed it to Arnold.

"I'll need you to fill this out, for her." 

The form was pretty basic. It more or less just asked about Helga; Date of birth, Full Name, Address, the usual.

Arnold wasn't quite sure of everything on the form, like Helga's Social Security Number, or her Blood Type. A few things he was able to answer with little or no trouble. However, when he got to allergies, he suddenly felt as though a crater had formed in the depths of his stomach. 

'Is that what's wrong?', he thought. He vaguely remembered her mentioning something about strawberries a while back, asking a waitress not to put strawberries in something she ordered. Immediately, Arnold knew why the crater had formed in his stomach. The muffin. The muffin, he'd grabbed off of a plate in the hospital, and given to her. She must have eaten it since then. So it was him. He poisoned her. 

He tried not to over think the situation, and continued to fill out as much of the form as possible, before handing it back to the doctor. 

"Looks like a commonplace allergic reaction. She should be fine in a little while. I'll have to give her a shot, and she'll need to take these for the next two days, just to be safe.", she said, turning and handing Arnold an orange bottle of tiny white pills. The label for them just said to take one pill twice a day, followed by a bunch of words his cousin Arnie, would have had a field day trying to pronounce. "You can wait in the lobby, she'll be fine.", she said, reassuringly. 

Arnold exited the room, and took a seat far enough away that he could see when she came out. The shot couldn't have been too painful, since he didn't hear so much as a scream come from the room. After about fifteen minutes of watching a very old rerun of Law and Order, Helga came and sat down in the seat next to Arnold, without saying much of anything, but looking sleepy nonetheless. 

"Helga! Are you okay?", he asked, noticing that most of the red had disappeared from her face but leaving a pinkish blush across her face.

"Oh, I'm fine.", she replied, the slightest bit dreamily.

"She'll be back to normal by tomorrow.", Dr. Holmes said, behind them. "She's already had her medication for tonight so don't give her anymore pill until morning. And there are a few side effects.", she said.

"Like what?", Arnold asked, afraid it might be something serious, like memory loss.

"Nothing too serious. Mostly she'll just be a little restless. But after it wears off she'll sleep like a baby.", she said, smiling.

"Thank You.", Arnold said, standing up and leading Helga out the door. 

'Restless? Helga's _always_ restless.', Arnold thought. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Helga stood on her bed, once a neatly arranged place of rest, now flipped, as it were, revealing the underside of covers and the pillows spewed out across the room, with her neck straight, and her head facing the ceiling that loomed over her head just a mere six inches. She was ready to belt.

"Mi gustari a compra de flores cada dia, Hace cada dia una vacacion, y habla mas y mas y mas de ti y de los quesas que haces!!!!!!"

"Helga! You have sung that line over and over for the past twenty-seven minutes.", Arnold said, his irritability growing.

"But it's my favorite part of the song.", She said, smiling.

"Do you even know what that means?", he said. 

"Yes, and if you let me finish my song, you would have found out.!", she said. "Now I have to rewind the whole thing…", she said, pushing a button on her CD player.

Arnold turned away, hearing about as much of the song as he could possibly tolerate.

Helga, on the other hand, clearly under the influence of medication, took the headphones off her own ears and adjusted them on Arnolds. She pushed play and watched for his response to the song, also clearly identified as her favorite. Arnold didn't seem to mind that she'd taken it upon herself to give him some musical insight, or that the volume was loud in the headphones.

I'm so happy again, to be stuck here again

And you're so happy again, to be stuck here again

Now we can rap about the good old days 

Laugh at dumb jokes that you make

It's great to be here and I'm just elated

To be someone you once hated

And it's all so complicated 

At first listen, Arnold seemed slightly perturbed at the song, but as it went on it seemed to express how both of them felt in the predicament of sharing a room. Instead of removing the headphones, as he previously was going to do, he continued to listen on through the chorus.

I'm so sorry again, You say you're leaving me again,

Cuz you're not happy again, and I'm left stuck here again,

Now you can scream about the little things, Slap me twice across the face,

Then it would be great if I could…

Again, the chorus was repeated, which Arnold finally figured out was what Helga was screaming in Spanish over and over. Finally, near the end of the song, the chorus slowed down and the lead singer belted out, much like Helga did the whole chorus in Spanish:

"I just said I'd buy you flowers everyday,

Make everyday a holiday,

Carry on and on and on about you,

And the things you do."

Eventually, Arnold returned the headphones, not saying much. He mumbled something about "That was nice", and tried not to look as though he'd actually enjoyed that. 

Helga, was now tired of listening to other people sing and decided to hum for as long as she decided. The tone was a little shaky, but more or less, but the song was easily recognizable. She'd gone from Bowling for Soup to Cyndi Lauper in a record of .12 seconds. 

"Must you do that?", Arnold said turning back to her.

"Must I do what?", Helga said innocently. These pills made her the slightest bit immature.

"Must you hum and sing, and…everything.", Arnold said, impatiently. 

Helga sat in silence for a few moments. She almost looked dumbfounded, like someone had just broken horrible news to her. "Does everything I do annoy you?", she said, maintaining the tone of a freshly scolded five year old. 

"No, not everything. Just…", Arnold said, slowly. For the first time, probably in his entire life, he felt as if he'd really hurt someone. 

Helga, had immediately begun to make her bed as neatly as possible in her half conscience state. She put everything back where it was before, and sat on her bed, pretending to be interested in the hockey game Arnold was. 

"Helga, I'm so-", Arnold said, interrupting himself, realizing at this point, he may as well have been apologizing to a brick wall. Helga, even in this condition, would have acknowledged it, but the first thing she'd remember in the morning was that he had hurt her. 

"Goodnight.", she finally said, an inch higher than a whisper, and climbed under the covers, still in her jeans and sweater.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It seems as though my chapters are longer now. Hehehehe Antoinette is happy!! I'm not sure if I L-O-V-E this chapter as much as I thought I would. Oh well, I've written worse, right?!!! The next chapter is supposed to be funny, but there's not as much going on as in the past two chapters. 

I've been really happy with these past two chapters as well, I've been meaning to throw Helga's allergy to strawberries in somewhere. It didn't quite fit in "Back Home", and I might decide to pop it in the oven with my other story (that some of you got an accidental peek at, during an upload error for chapter four of "Back Home") Don't worry, it's all better, the real chapter is up and running!!! 

Oh and was I the only one who caught this, but didn't anyone notice something a little "familiar" about the name of "Party Wagon's" main character? His full name was Russel P. McDuff, if I'm not mistaken. And I know I'm not mistaken when I say that this HAS to be the work of the one and only Craig, because Arnold's crush in Season 1, up until "Arnold's Valentine", was Ruth P. McDougal. See? Russel, Ruth. P., P. McDuff, McDougal…never mind then! 

Okay, See you guys later!!!!! Please Review!


	10. The Morning After the morning After

Chapter TEN!!! Can you believe it? Double digits already!!! But the trip may be ending soon, seeing as I probably will only have 13 or 14 chapters to this story. I know, I know, I don't want it to end either, it's my firstborn!!! But all good things must come to an end, like the chocolate swirl cheesecake I'm eating. See, it just ended! It was a very good thing, but it had to end. Cuz if it didn't my dad would have ended it, and you don't want my dad to end this story. Okay, here I go!!!!

I do not own Hey Arnold…what's up with that?

****

Chapter Ten: The Morning After the Morning After

"But as you sleep,

And no one is listening,

****

I will lift you off your feet

I'll keep you from sinking,

Don't you wake up yet,

Cuz soon I'll be leaving you,

But you wont be leaving me."

"As You Sleep", Something Corporate

****

"How can you say this is natural?!!! This isn't natural!! Sleeping for 17 hours straight isn't natural!!!", Arnold began to yell into the phone.

"Actually, it's quite natural for humans to sleep for long periods of time."

"Yeah, maybe if your narcoleptic!!!!!", Arnold retorted, throwing a little bit of his textbook knowledge back at her.

"Actually", Phoebe repeated. "Narcoleptics suffer from uncontrollable sleep attacks that usually last a short period of time.", she said, hurling her textbook knowledge and vocabulary back at him with equal force.

"Yeah, uh huh, that's great. How does that help the current situation, again?", Arnold asked, trying to get back on the subject.

"Just let her sleep for a while. Eventually she'll get hungry, or have to use the bathroom, and she'll wake up. She probably won't even remember last night, so don't spring it on her right away, okay?", Phoebe suggested.

"Alright. See ya later.", Arnold said, placing the beige colored phone back on the receiver, and continued pacing the room. He shot another worried glance at her sleeping form.

As soon as Arnold woke up, he knew something obviously wasn't right in the world. Helga always, always, always woke up before him. This little concern was not reason enough to call Phoebe and spill his concerns over the phone. It was more than likely sometime after noon, when Helga usually ate, that he began to worry. He didn't want to wake her involuntarily, or leave the room, for fear that she would wake up and find herself alone. After reading the warning label of the medication Helga had to take once a day, he figured it was best to just sit and focus on…not focusing on it. That proved to be easier said than done.

In turn, he sat in complete silence, reading a frankly boring magazine article about breakout stars who weren't even of driving age. Helga would shuffle in bed around a little, or make a slight whimpery noise every so often. A few times she would seem to be grasping at something, with a frustrated look on her face, or jerk around, as if she were about to fall of the side of a cliff before catching herself. Just watching her was altogether frightening.

Arnold's eyes were locked on Helga, expecting her to wake up at any second, until there was an abrupt knock on the door.

Arnold got up and answered it tiredly. He expected it to be Phoebe at the door, but instead, there stood Gerald, holding a bag of something that smelled delicious.

"Hey, I come bearing gifts.", Gerald said, obviously sent to lighten the mood that had encased the room for the past couple of hours.

"Thanks.", Arnold sighed, leading him out into the middle of the room and directing him over to the table where he lazily brushed the magazine onto the floor and letting it flop face down.

"Phoebe told me what happened…", Gerald said, obviously avoiding the sleeping Helga, and taking a seat across from him at the table. "You can't beat yourself up about this.", he told Arnold, a little firmer than his usual Gerald-like tone.

"It's hard though, being as she's been asleep for almost 18 hours.", Arnold stated, still painted the color of guilt.

"Here's what I think. You need to get out, just for a while. Me or Phoebe can man the fort while your gone."

"Wonderful suggestion, Gerald. 'Hey, Arnold, you just poisoned your friend with strawberries, what are you going to do now?' I'm gonna forget about her and hop aboard the Party Wagon!!!!

(AN: If your not either laughing or saying "Oh I get it"…, you have a lot of catching up to do…)

"(Sigh) I don't mean like that, Arnold. Just, go for a walk or something. Clear your head. You could use some time outside of this room.", Gerald, with genuine concern in his voice.

"I don't think so. Not until she wakes up at least."

Gerald stayed a while longer, but had to bring back word to Phoebe on Helga's condition which was, besides little movement, continued unchanged. Not long after Gerald had decided to leave, and after Arnold was .051 of a millimeter away from actually taking his advice did Helga decide to awaken.

She did so, rather silently, even quieter than when she slept. Of course, she was not fully awake in this state, but besides that, she still seemed a bit jaded. Arnold occupied himself in the bathroom, while Helga remained motionless in bed. Moving didn't seem like much of an option, just the thought made her wan to drift farther back into sleep. Despite the fact that she couldn't sleep, her lethargy didn't war off the shores of sound. Instead of immediately reacting to the sounds that obviously came from the bathroom, Helga stayed in the same position, on her stomach, rendering herself helpless.

All of this went unnoticed by Arnold, who tried desperately to occupy his mind with anything that would make him momentarily forget about t he entire ordeal, but later shove him back to reality with brutal force. As he emerged from the bathroom, he did a literal "double-take", convinced he hadn't seen the two half open white orbs on Helga's once sleeping face.

"Hi…", she managed to breathe out, still looking vulnerable, in such a state, so small under the comforter. She tried to form a smile under her dark-shadowed eyes, but the sheer look of Arnold's prohibited her.

"Hey", he replied, solemnly taking a seat on his bed, looking closely at Helga to make sure this was not an extreme hallucination. He fleetingly looked over at the orange container of Helga's

medication and water he'd placed on the nightstand that separated them, and thought of waiting a little longer to tell Helga. From the expression on her face, she was still fragile, and most likely so was her mindset. She attempted to bury her face farther into the blankets, but such endeavors were futile, Arnold wasn't going to cave in.

"You okay?", he asked, his voice a limitless void of worry for her well being.

In an effort to ease his anxiety, Helga replied, "You really wanna know?"

"Yes.", he said, unable to wait much longer.

"I feel like a Polaroid picture in an Outkast video.", she said, smiling.

"I guess if your well enough to crack jokes, you should be okay. Here.", he said, opening the container of small white pills and spilling a few into his hands before handing her one and pouring the rest back in the bottle. He handed her the glass of water, but she didn't make any motions to take them.

Arnold sighed, knowing the time to explain himself would come. He sat back a little on his bed, searching for the right words. Fortunately for him, the right words were written on the little orange bottle that he'd gotten her medications from. Helga's eyes immediately shot towards one of the words that stood out on the white label. Sitting up unexpectedly, Helga snatched the bottle off of the counter and staring hard, making sure she wasn't seeing what she thought she was.

Arnold was immediately aware, and somewhat startled by her sudden jolt of energy that had caused her to sit up in her bed. "Is something wrong?", he asked, already stating the obvious.

"This has adrenocorticotropic hormones in it.", she said, as if he were to have any idea what she was talking about.

(A/N: Pronounced: add-ren-oh-cart-ee-co-tropic. My entire family's in the medical field, what do you expect?)

"Okay…", he replied, hoping she'd skip to the part where she told him what that meant.

She could tell by the dumbstruck expression on his face, that she had no idea what he was talking about, and it would be her job to clarify. "It's the steroid that's used to treat allergic reactions."

Arnold hadn't expected her to know all of this before he was given the chance to tell her what really happened. Somehow, the situation played out completely different within the inner recesses of his mentality. Just as he was about to explain, Helga bursted out again.

"What did I eat?! Or drink or, ingest??!!!", she said, practically on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Calm down, it's okay.", he answered, without really answering. "Last night, you accidentally, well I accidentally gave you strawberries."

"How do you _accidentally _give somebody strawberries? Did you paint them purple and call them grapes? Was I drunk?", She said, spilling out questions faster than a leaking dam.

"No, you weren't drunk. I'm sorry, it was my fault, I wasn't paying attention to wha…", he began, but distracted by Helga's silence. From his position on his bed, he could see that she sat focused on her hands, which shivered, even when balled into a fist. Without much thought, he took both of her hands, and cupped them into his, trying to bring some solace to her tense figure. "It's okay, Calm down, it's okay…", he repeated, although in reality he was pleading for her to stop shaking and to just be fine. In his mind he wondered if this was an adverse side effect to Helga's medication or if there was really something wrong with her.

Helga pulled back a little, but keeping her hands in place. "I'm sorry, it's just that…I've had allergic reactions before, but not this bad.", she stated. Part of her, a small part was slightly taken back by how much Arnold actually cared about her. Of course, Arnold cared about everyone. Arnold probably even cared about the little old lady who was struggling to get herself across the street at this very moment. He came fully equipped with a homing device for any and everyone who was in any sort of turmoil anywhere on the earth. But somehow, it seemed as if he'd made an earnest effort to make sure that she was okay.

"Here.", he articulated, with a little difficulty. Seeing anyone in such a state could unnerve even the guy on the Brawny paper towel commercials. He commenced in handing over her medication and a full glass of water. She took the pill and imbibed the water so quickly, he felt like he'd need a VCR to rewind and make sure she'd actually taken them.

"What time is it?", Helga asked, after finishing off the last of her water.

"About…", Arnold began, looking at his wristwatch. "4:20."

"In the afternoon! I didn't think I slept that long."

Just as she finished her sentence, the ugly beige phone rang, and Arnold picked it up the moment he heard the annoying ring.

"Hello?" he spoke into the mouthpiece. He had no real reason to even say anything. There was a 96% chance that Phoebe was on the other line, waiting for a half-hourly update on Helga's once unstable condition.

"Arnold, disregard everything I said! I don't care if you have to throw her down Niagara Falls in a barrel, find a way to wake her up!!"

"Phoebe."

"Yes Arnold?", she said panting a little into the phone. Such an outburst was unusual for Phoebe, and when the occasion came to execute one, it wore her out rather quickly.

"She's awake."

"Oh, okay, well that's a different situation altogether. Is she okay?", she asked, her tone changing completely from accusing to caring.

"More or less.", he said glancing back at her. She seemed "okay", if that's what you chose to call it. "I'm not sure if she's up for doing anything right now."

"That's fine. Call me back if she needs something, okay.", Phoebe voiced supportively over the phone. It was pretty clear to see, that having a lot of people around to pet your head and throw out an "I'm Sorry" at every bad time in your life wasn't worth half a copper penny. But Phoebe, made up for all the pain that people had overlooked, or just…ignored.

"I will. See ya later."

Arnold hung up the phone, and tried to clean up what part of the room he'd messed up, which happened to be all of it. After trying to tidy up the room, Arnold figured it'd be best to see how much Helga could remember from the previous night.

"So,…feeling any better?", he asked, still nervous and slightly troubled about having told her that he may have possibly landed her in a coma all over a strawberry muffin.

"A little. What about you?", she retorted, not the least bit spitefully. She managed to pull herself up the pillow enough just so that she could shift all her weight from her back, to her right arm. As hard as she tried not to look as though she was in any pain, her face told a story of aches.

"I'm good. Hey, how'd you know that adrenaline cardio- whatever stuff was in allergy medications?", he asked, throwing in his three cents in on lightening the mood.

"Adrenocorticotropic. And once, when I was like, eleven, I ate some sun-dried strawberries, and broke out really badly. So, after I came back from the hospital, I just memorized whatever medication I took, so next time, I'd know what I needed.", She said, smiling weakly.

"I'm just glad you didn't lose your memory or something.", he said, this time taking a seat on the foot of her bed.

"No, I'm not trying to do that again.", she laughed, only to be ended with a cough.

Arnold sat for a moment to think about this. It seemed as though he'd been responsible for a number of Helga's "medical emergencies", the most tragic of which was when she'd lost her memory. Accident or not, something like that can have adverse affects, especially on someone like Arnold.

"I never realized I'd hurt you that much…"

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried, Arnold.", Helga said, reassuringly. It wasn't too Helga-like to try to comfort other people, especially those who'd done something to her. And yet in her sincere and honest consideration for Arnold, she had no clue about the hole she was burning in him.

Of course, what she said was partially true. Arnold probably couldn't hurt her if he tried. But last night he wasn't trying. And somehow, he sensed that, even though she probably couldn't remember it, he'd hurt her more than he had anyone.

Not long afterwards, Phoebe accompanied by Gerald (when isn't she?) paid a much needed visit to the two "Flowers in the Attic". Phoebe used her time to catch up with her best friend, and try to dig up any thing that could explain the events of the prior night. At the other end of the room, however, a similar conversation was underway, only with a slightly different conclusion.

"Arnold,…hello?"

"Yes?", Arnold replied, unaware that he was distracted, even momentarily.

"Yeah, I just wanted to tell you that she's awake now. You can stop staring." Despite the television being on, and the sound of some show that none of them paid any attention to, Gerald was obviously trying to keep his voice slightly lowered.

"Whatever…", Arnold replied. He'd taken the initiative to monitor Helga, without spying in on she and Phoebe's conversation. Every once in a while, he'd notice her start coughing, a little uncontrollably, and then take a sip of water, and be fine afterwards. But such could just be another side effect of the medication. There sure were a lot that Dr. Holmes hadn't warned him about.

"Yes Phoebe, I'm positive.", Helga repeated. Once worry had been rooted in Phoebe's brain, it was very difficult to uproot it.

"Well, don't get up or anything, until you're one hundred percent sure, okay?"

"Yes, I promise.", she said, rather monotone. By that time, however, Phoebe had taken it upon herself to decide when to leave.

"C'mon Gerald, we've overstayed our welcome. Bye you guys."

"Remember what I said, okay buddy?", Gerald uttered, just before exiting the room.

"I'm erasing it from my memory as we speak.", Arnold replied, giving him a very sarcastic looking smirk, right before Gerald left the room.

In a few short hours, Helga was ready to fall back into slumber. Arnold wondered if Dr. Holmes meant that Helga would only be restless for the first day and near coma the next. Either way, he figured Helga's half of the silence would make his slight shuffling sound like a Thanksgiving Day parade. After all, silence breeds silence.

About 5 hours after they'd bid each other their final goodnights, Helga began coughing. Unlike most of hers, it started slow, and picked up speed as it went on. Arnold heard the coughing halfway through, but figured she'd take a drink of her water and go back to sleep. But after hearing a rather frightening sputter, and a series of long, harsh coughs, he knew she wasn't okay.

There was no time to find a light switch, or runt o the bathroom for a glass of water. Even if she wasn't choking, whose to say that he wouldn't choke her with his. Looking over, he could tell from her silhouette she was already in an upright position, now both hands cupping her mouth. He sat next to her on her bed and began hitting her back with his open palm, trying not to inflict as much pain as he was capable of inflicting.

Aware of his presence and attempt to help, Helga turned directly to Arnold, only to be shoved into his broad chest. Her coughing was muffled, and eventually stopped and ended with her heavy breathing. Even after her coughing had suppressed, she remained in the same position, her face planted under Arnold's chin. For a brief moment, Arnold forgot how tiny Helga was. Even with her arms locked in front of her, the own real barrier between them, Arnold was easily able to wrap his arms around her. It was then, that Arnold's mind registered: _He had his arms wrapped around her._

Eventually, after a mutual detachment, both slid into their _own _beds and returned to sleep. Or tried at least.

'What was that? I should have pulled away…what's wrong with me? Why couldn't I move…no. No it can't be. It's been years, Helga. Years…', Helga tried to erase the words that were etched onto her brain. She found it harder still to ignore the momentary joy she felt, knowing Arnold was right there and cared so much. But worse, she knew that at the exact same moment, Arnold lay less than three feet away from her, with the same thoughts running through his mind.

'A reaction. It was just a perfectly normal, human reaction…", Arnold reasoned. He'd tried ot get the thought, and the unique scent of Helga's hair. He didn't need things like this running through his head. He just…didn't.

Don't you love that ending? I loved it more when it was in my head, I'm not so sure how much I love it now. But hey, what can ya do? Okay, there was something I wanted to say before I close this, but I can't quite remember… nope, still nothing. Oh well, I'll remember first period tomorrow, while my Chemistry teacher drones on about something everyone will forget about by the end of his sentence! BYE!!

-Pointy Objects


	11. Miss America

Hello all! I'm back with chapter eleven. Anyhoo, this is one of my better chapters (I think). Oh and one little thing I have to clear up before I start…

__

Note: This message is for one oh so special reviewer, but if you would like to read it anyway, feel free to.

First of all you know who you are, and I know who you are and I know you know I know who you are. So, just in case it hasn't gotten through your thick skull, I DO NOT ACCEPT FLAMERS. Needless to say, I had some choice words for you (Ask DarthRoden and Jae B) but I'm controlling myself. But, if I do get another flamer, from you, I will not hold back, and you will feel my worded wrath. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

Chapter Eleven: Miss America

'How did I get here? How did I get here? How did I get here…'

Helga recalled the question over in her head until she forgot what it meant. With her amount of alcohol, over a hundred crazed partygoers, and a few too many strobe lights. In her state of mind, this was the last place she needed be. But what she did need was to get away from Arnold. But not like this…not here.

"I'm getting up now…"

It was so much fun egging him on. All she had to do was drape one foot over the side of the bed and he would go crazy. Every time it looked like she was leaving her "asylum", he'd freak out and go into Over Protective Dad mode.

(A/N: I should know…)

"Why on earth are you so eager to get up and move around? Most people would love to stay in bed all day and do nothing.", Arnold replied, searching the T.V. for something worth watching. The hotel provided them with 4 movie channels, none of which had anything good on.

Sure, plenty of people would love to do nothing for an entire day. Plenty of people would be absolutely ecstatic to lie around and do absolutely nothing for as long as they liked. But to someone who'd waited for months and saved up for twice as long to go on this trip, only to be poisoned by a fruit, and bedridden for two days, such a "privilege" was obviously not appreciated.

"I don't want to do nothing all day. This is boring, I hate it!", she complained from the edge of her bed. After 18 years of being brutally ignored, she could turn from civilized teenager to whiney brat in a matter of seconds.

"Give it another hour or so. You'll be fine.", he said, putting on a coat, and slipping the hotel room key in his pocket. This evidently didn't go unrecognized by Helga.

"Where are _you_ going?", she asked firmly, emphasizing the "you", especially since she was not allowed to leave her 4 by 8 foot prison, and he could run around wherever he wanted.

"I'm just going out to pick up some stuff. Ya hungry?"

How could he be so non-chalant about this? She had to stay confined to a bed, and he was free to "pick up some stuff". Without replying, she made her way to the closet, where Arnold stood, ready to put a firm hand down, and demand that she return to bed. For some inane reason, Helga had been unusually compromising as to her condition, not giving Arnold much trouble about being confined to the room. For as far as he was concerned, she had little or no recollection of "The Night of The Strawberries", as she playfully called it, and was just being reasonable.

"Helga, your still-"

"Still what?", she implied, sensing that had she not cut him off, he would have said something very stupid.

"I just think that you're not quite ready to…" He really was looking out for her. He'd only left the room twice in the last two days, one was to go to Gerald's room for fifteen minutes, and the other was a food run. Other than that, he'd stayed in the room just as much as she had, and was equally sick of it. If she was willing to compromise about doing nothing, he was willing to compromise if she wanted to go with him. But of course, not without certain restrictions.

"One hour. If you're feeling sick after that, we're coming right back, okay?", he couldn't let her slide with this one. He'd already gotten her sick for too much of her vacation, and if he let anything else happen to her, she probably wouldn't have forgiven him. He probably wouldn't have forgiven_ himself_.

Helga made no audible reply, just took some clothes into the bathroom to change. It took her a little longer than usual, but within fifteen minutes or so, she was out, donned in her usual attire: T-shirt, black jeans, worn out shoes. She didn't have anyone to impress today. Once your best guy friend sees you're faced blanketed in crimson, and is forced to carry you a mile and a half to the nearest hospital because you've eaten strawberries, what dignity you may have had in storage is virtually gone.

Back outside, the wind was choppy and brisk, and both teenagers were thankful that they'd packed larger coats. Arnold walked a pace or two in front of Helga, as the sidewalks were too narrow and packed for the two to walk side by side. As they progressed down the sidewalk, and towards the street corner, the crowd got thicker, and Helga found it harder to keep up with Arnold. After several men in identical black business suits intercepted her for the last time, Helga's hand shot out in partial panic.

Despite the extreme weirdness of two nights ago, as soon as Arnold felt something grab at his hand, he sensed to be Helga, and in turn fastened onto it. Neither of them had dare speak about the incident, they merely brushed it off as something irrelevant and pointless. But to both of them, such things were anything but meaningless.

With one hand clutching the northern most part of her coat, where the zipper ended, and the other in Arnold's, Helga was beginning to feel the eyes of every passerby burning into her neck. The thought of so many eyes watching her and Arnold, and some of them possibly thinking the expected, sent an unusual chill up her spine. And the fact that part of her wished it really were true, gave the chill an extra kick.

Even as they stood on the street corner with seven hundred other people, neither of them, parted and proceeded across the street with the horde of people. Listening intensely to the sounds of the busy city, Helga kept her gaze on the corner store. Arnold on the other hand, although much better at hiding emotions than Helga, was having a particularly difficult time finding something to distract him until the light signaled them to go across the road.

Rather than Helga's approach to an awkward situation by silence and not paying it heed, Arnold found it easier to talk until his head caved in. But amongst the car horns, screeching tires and the rustling leaves in the mid-morning gale, kept a number if his words from being understood. Eventually, the light that prohibited them from crossing safely, resumed its original color, and they were permitted to proceed. Completely passing the corner store that Helga was almost certain they'd be going into, Arnold approached a modest sized booth where a tiny little woman with her hair tied away from her face, stood and flipped stir-fry on an open flatbed oven. Above their heads was a large, plastic yellow sign that read "FINE SZECHUAN DINING AND CARRY OUT."

"You wanna eat here?", Helga asked, not taking her eyes off the "U" on the sign that was bound to fall off if the wind didn't let up.

"Yes, I'm in the mood for some Fine Szechuan Dining and Carry Out."

"But how do you know it's _fine_?" Helga asked.

"Because I've had it before.", Arnold answered, not quite understanding the nature of her question.

"I know it's good in general, but how do this is _fine_?", Helga asked. It was less of a question this time, more like something being brought to his attention, like a Public Service Announcement.

"I don't…I'm not…I don't follow." Arnold replied, near flabbergasted. Looks like she'd have to spell this one out for him.

"Okay, the sign says they serve Fine Szechuan Dining, right?"

"And Carry Out.", Arnold added.

"But how do you know the dining is fine? It might really be "Mediocre Szechuan Dining" or "Pretty Good but not quite Fine Szechuan Dining. You never really know, do you?", Helga asked, shaking her head scholarly. Princess Pessimism reigns.

"Okay, all dining matters put aside, let me ask you something.", Arnold said, inquisitively. She wasn't going to slip by with some lame answer or dumb excuse.

"Go ahead." He wasn't going to trap her in some twist of words, or one of his clever clichés.

"Do you doubt everything? I mean really, if I were to tell you something deep and personal, would you believe me?"

Arnold's face was now very close to hers, and she could read the seriousness on his face. What on earth could she say to that? If it were just about anybody else, her answer would be relatively simple. But Arnold somehow bent the rules in his favor. He had a weird kindness to him that made you think you could trust him with the things you can't even trust a journal with. And, of course, with his record, most people would find it easy to confide in him. If something was truly confidential, he made sure to keep it that way. But trusting someone else's word? Trusting that he would really tell her something "deep personal"? Not quite Helga…

"In truth…", Helga began, sending him defiant look almost as intense as his own. "…I really couldn't tell you." She hoped that would end the conversation and dispute any like it that he would think of starting later. Her accountability on other people wasn't her favorite topic.

"Do you think they'll let you bring that in?", Arnold said, pointing to the white Styrofoam box Helga tucked under her arm.

"Why not, I won't eat it in here.", Helga replied, opening the door to the store. The fact that she had eaten was fine enough, but that the food was good enough for her to "Carry Out", surprised even her. "Why are we going in here anyway? I thought you just wanted something to eat." Helga said, following him inside nonetheless.

"Yeah, well, I think in the last two days, we've watched "The Hot Chick" and "Arachnophobia" entirely too many times. I don't know, thought we'd pick something else up. Okay with you?", Arnold asked, already scanning the aisles for movies. At this point, Helga had little to no room for objection. Lately, it'd been his way or the highway, seeing as this was the first time she'd been outdoors in two days. She had to constantly remind herself that he was looking out for her best interests, and not deliberately smothering her. Putting all thoughts aside, she began to interest herself with a long line of Science Fiction Movies, that she really had no interest in, but decided to look at anyway.

From where Arnold stood, he could see where Helga was, and what she was reading, even though they were on different aisles. To Arnold, Helga was never one to give in to defeat or ask for help from anyone. Thinking, Speaking and acting on her own terms were daily habits that could not be broken. And yet, for some reason, she allowed him to restrain and curtail her, even when he was being the slightest bit unreasonable. But somehow, she kept her mouth shut, and just kept going.

After half an hour of reading the backs of movies, and being outside fifteen minutes longer than he'd promised, Arnold was ready to call it a day. In his arms he carried his coat, seeing as the video store was overly heated compared to outside. All the movies he looked at were boring, and the few that he actually wanted were rented out.

Making his way to the front of the store, Arnold wondered where Helga was. He saw her wander off from the Science Fiction section, but not sure of where she was headed. He checked the microscopic magazine section, the Comedy section, Romance, Drama, Action, all of them. He even resorted to asking the cashier if he's seen her walk out of the door. His reply came from a pimple-faced platinum blonde that had started his shift 3 minutes ago.

Arnold was beginning to get worried. Helga wouldn't have just gone back to the hotel without telling him. And the store wasn't really very small. Against his will, he went outside to make sure she wasn't waiting on a bench or leaning against the building. She wasn't. Back inside, he checked any part of the store that would draw Helga in. Still no sign of her.

For some reason, Arnold ignored the Children's Section of the store altogether. To him, it didn't seem like the kind of place Helga would just wander into, even though she acted like a child sometimes.

The aisles in the children's section were narrow and cramped, and with his wide shoulders, it was difficult for him to get through. Finally, after checking every row of the children's movies, he found Helga, reaching high on a shelf for something. As angry as he was, he decided against marching up to her right then, only because of the five year old that stood nearby. Stepping down from a stool, Helga handed the little boy a video, which ran off in the opposite direction. Arnold hardly wanted to speak to her as she approached him.

"Ready to go?", she asked, obviously not sensing the anger that pulsed through his veins and reddened his face. Advancing ahead of her, Arnold walked out the door, still holding his coat, and remaining silent. After a block of far less crowded streets than before, Helga could tell that Arnold wasn't quite being himself, although the reason still eluded her.

"Is something wrong Arnold?", she said, quickening up to his pace now. She found this more difficult now, her legs were already tired, a sign that she needed to get home and take her medication.

In an instant, Arnold whirled around ready to go off. "What do you think you're doing?", He said, harsher than his usual tone. Somehow, without any prior warning, he'd latched onto Helga's upper arm, without any signs of releasing her voluntarily.

"What?", Helga replied, slightly dumbfounded. This wasn't Arnold. Where the switch had occurred, she wasn't sure, but all she was sure of was that if this was Arnold, he was evidently angry.

"You can't just do whatever you want, Helga. That's not how things work.", he said, calming down, but not much.

Helga stood, virtually motionless, still not understanding what was happening. "What are you talking about?", she said, jerking her arm away. If this was anybody else, she would have leveled him or her for so much as touching her, let alone yelling at her for something she probably didn't do.

"The Video Store? Running off like that!! That was just stupid, Helga!", Arnold said, not making any effort to go anywhere until she'd understood that.

"First of all, I wasn't running off. You'd know that, had you not jumped down my throat the second we got outside. And second, I'm not doing whatever I want. For the past two days, I've been doing whatever _you _want!"

"I'm not even gonna argue with you about this. Why is it so hard for you to admit that you need help? It's not that big of a deal…"

By this time, Helga had made her way down the street, towards the hotel. True, she had the tendency to be stubborn, even thickheaded sometimes, but stupid. Nobody called her stupid. Big Bob even had enough sense not to call her stupid. As childish as she may have seemed, she continued into the hotel, and bypassing the stairs altogether, up the stairwell.

Arnold wasn't too upset with this, until he remembered Helga's philosophy from their first night in the hotel: The stairs are always faster. Which was true, and with her she could get up there, bolt the door, and jettison all of his clothes out of the window with time to spare. Inside the elevator, which seemed to move slower than ever, Arnold replayed their argument. Part of him was ashamed for doing so right there in the street, and the other half thought it well deserved. Still, he felt a twinge of remorse for saying some of the things he did, and knowing that he'd have to deal with the aftermath as soon as he got in the room.

The elevator doors parted, and Arnold stepped out into the empty hallway. He already knew Helga was in the room, as he approached it. Slipping his door key in then out, and pushing forward on the door, he was greeted by loud talking. He figured Helga had turned on the T.V. to drown out his own arrival. On top of her bed, Helga had rested her opened suitcase.

Without acknowledging his entrance or presence, Helga walked out of the bathroom, and passed him. She had gotten to the room with enough time to change into something decent, or at least something worth being seen in. Still walking around in her socks, the only piece of clothing left unchanged, she threw various little things into her handbag, things she rarely used, but figured she would need anyway. Neither of them spoke, until Helga waltzed up to her bed and jerked on her coat, over the bright blue V-neck sweater, and black pants.

"What, you're not going to speak to me now?", Arnold said, not caring whether or not she answered. Arnold was tired. He was tired before he even stepped into the room. Tired of apologizing first, and being the bad guy, and putting up with Helga's seven million mood swings every other day. As hard as he tried, he wasn't any closer to breaking her complex code than he was to deciphering Egyptian Hieroglyphics.

For the first time since their argument, Helga shot Arnold a menacing gaze, but remained silent. Vengefully, she snatched her hair to the back of her head and continued to the door. Yes, she was being immature, yes she was being unreasonable, and yes she was being a baby. She was being everything she hated in other people. And that Arnold, with their history, could make her become the infantile person that she was. But there'd be time for self-discipline later. Right now, she was pissed, and he was in the way.

Despite Helga's obvious lack of interest in anything Arnold had to say, Arnold had to get a few more things off of his chest. Helga's feelings would have to take a backseat this time.

"Look, I don't care if your speaking to me or not. You need to hear this. Whether you like it or not, you can't do everything by yourself. I don't get why you can't just admit that you need help. Not everybody is out to get you." As true, and as heartfelt as his plea may have been, his tone didn't denote any such feeling. The only way Helga would understand what he was saying was to do so in her language: Anger.

Either way, Helga was halfway out the door, with no signs of turning around. She knew she couldn't do everything alone, she knew she needed people. But right now, she wasn't sure she needed Arnold. "Not everybody needs _you_, Arnold." And with that she left.

Down the hallway, Helga didn't so much as turn her back. She said all she needed to say, and was almost certain the same went for Arnold. In a nutshell, getting away from Arnold just seemed like the best idea, even if she'd regret it later.

Back outside, the sky had darkened, but the sun defied and shed light on the streets. Helga advanced towards the end of the street, hoping there'd be something downtown to capture her interest. Suddenly remembering her medication, she stopped at a street vender's cart and bought a bottle of water. After turning the corner, she proceeded to search her purse for the bottle of little white pills.

'Wonderful', she thought, mentally cursing at herself for forgetting them, and then at Arnold for making her so angry as to forget. In her rage, she stomped around the room, able to change before he made his way up. And even after he reentered the room, she found it hard to concentrate aside from avoiding looking at him.

Shaking all thoughts of Arnold out of her mind and onto the pavement, Helga walked on, convinced that it's already been two days, and she probably wouldn't even need her medication anymore. She scolded herself repeatedly for leaving her only money in her suitcase, another side effect of her anger. Finding herself at the theatre she'd been literally carried out of, and not having enough money for a ticket, she stood outside, trying to look as though she belong somewhere. Her only companions outside the theatre were a few college kids who'd stepped out to smoke, and the same ticket taker from a few nights before. Standing around doing nothing began to get to her, and she swiftly pulled out a stick of bright yellow gum, and chewed, hoping to fill the silence in her head.

This place was too quiet. All this silence gave her too much time to think about Arnold, who was, at the moment, forbidden territory. As she abandoned her spot, at least a hundred people flooded from the theatre, signaling the end of the play. Being pummeled by fifty or so college-aged kids wasn't what Helga would call "enjoyable", but at least it wasn't quiet anymore.

"Hey HEY!"

Helga kept going, convinced whoever this person is was calling to someone in front of her. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she let the cold airbrush over her, but not without a scowl first. Without warning, a hand was on her shoulder and panting in her ear. She was about finished with people putting their hands all over her. This guy had two seconds to remove his hand from her before he got a swift kick in the…

"Is this yours? I think you dropped it when you left the play."

Helga turned, hoping it'd be a twenty-dollar bill, which she wouldn't mind claiming. After all, was she to do? Ask everyone who just came out of the play if they dropped any cash? She turned, a little reluctantly. Instead of much needed cash, she found her shoe, in the hands of an unusually familiar face. Her eyes met with ones very much like hers, only a darker shade of blue, partially hidden by a mop of shaggy brown hair. How and when he got her shoe, she wasn't sure, but she thanked him anyway. Overall, he wasn't bad looking, and for a while got her mind off of Arnold.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get your name…"

For some reason, this made Helga smile. Not that she was one to walk around frowning all of the time, but very rarely could a complete stranger make her feel like a giggling freshman. And that he was so polite, even if it was just in asking her name, it made her feel more receptive to taking to him. Despite all of this, she wasn't letting her real name slip for anything.

"Lori." she said, peering over his shoulder (that was a full 7 inches higher than hers) and the _Lord and Taylor _store down the street, with several middle-aged women leaking out of it.

"Josh…", he replied, almost mimicking her. Her first response would be to take offense, but she declined. She'd been angry enough to day. She wasn't quite sure how to counter his name revelation, but to stand there and look at something other than his face.

"…I was just about to go get something to eat, wanna come?"

As a child, Helga was an avid fan of Sesame Street (Specifically Mr. Snuffleupagus). And everyone knows that right after Sesame Street is the same public service announcement that warns you to turn and run when a stranger asks you to go anywhere with him/her. But, what they don't tell you is that if you are over the age of 16, the stranger has introduced himself, is moderately good looking, and asks you to "go get something to eat", then you should be okay.

"So what are you doing all by yourself in big ole' New York?", he asked, from across the table. Over the past twenty or so minutes, Josh had actually taken an interest in her, as opposed to trying to convince her that it was warmer in his apartment than in the restaurant.

"I'm on vacation… with some friends.", She answered. Being in New York alone, after clearly identifying herself as a tourist would not only be dangerous, but also pretty stupid.

"That's cool. I've lived here most of my life. Sometimes at night…"

Helga let him go on about whatever it was he was going on about, while she sneaked a peek at her wristwatch. 8:34. She could get back to the hotel in more than enough time. That is, if she wanted to get back. She hadn't considered what it'd be like, running back into the hotel room she'd run out of, just over an hour ago. She had one more day left in New York, and did not want to spend it being angry and avoiding Arnold. Looks like an apology was in order…

"Ya wanna go?" Josh asked, for the second time. Apparently he's been jabbering about something that required an answer.

"Um…", Helga said, trying to look deep in thought, while in reality, she was piecing together the parts of their conversation she'd actually listened to. 'It's definitely a place…', she gathered. Brilliant.

"A friend of mine is having a party at his place. Just a few close friends and stuff. Besides, we can't have you walking around New York in the dead of night."

Helga just nodded, not knowing quite sure if she could trust him. So far, he hadn't tried anything fishy, and seemed fairly polite. After paying the tab, he draped his coat over her shoulder, even though she was already wearing her own. It was a polite gesture, and Helga appreciated it, even though she saw that as something more of what Arnold would do. As soon as they approached the scene of the party, Helga was convinced that the people that were practically hanging out of windows, doors, and anything that led outdoors, were more than a "few close friends". Instead it looked like half of the human population was fighting to get in or out of this house.

After pushing and shoving their way into the door, Helga was immediately reminded of the disgusting rest stop bathroom, that she refused to use on their way to New York. Finally getting to the center of a large room, full to capacity with college kids, 98% of them stark, raving drunk, Josh performed some elaborate high-five thing with another guy, almost the same height.

'Wonderful', Helga thought. 'He's a frat boy', Helga thought, while dodging beer cans being thrown across the room. She could tell there was a conversation going on between the two frat brothers, but the loud annoying music that consisted of screeching guitars and loud, meaningless screaming.

Amongst all of the noise, Helga could feel a headache brewing. At first she figured it was because she hadn't eaten, when in reality, she knew she desperately needed her medication. But as of right now, three things prohibited her from returning to the hotel as fast as possible: 1) Her pride (which seemed to be getting in the way of everything, lately) 2) The DJ whom she wanted to beat to a pulp now and 3) A red plastic cup thrust into her hand by one of Josh's friends. It was filled with some brownish, soda-like liquid, which she found out later was Rum and Coke. The first few gulps were okay, it seemed to make her headache go away momentarily. But the next cup (and the three after it) was just to erase every bad thing from her memory, especially her fight with Arnold.

Exactly one hour and 42 minutes later, Helga woke up, in a bathroom she didn't recognize. Outside the bathroom, Helga could tell that the DJ had turned the music up, even though she couldn't really hear the words. Around her there sat about four or five red plastic cups, each of them with a spoonful of the now nauseating brown liquid leaking out.

Her vision was slightly blurred, but she could make out the toilet, sink, bathtub, and how far away she was from each. Above the toilet, which sat at the far end of the bathroom, was a small window, no larger than the toilet itself. She figured that'd be her escape route if she weren't able to get out through the front door. The window was rather small, when she really thought about it, and thought it best to weather the door rather than kill herself trying to squeeze through a window.

Crawling to the bathroom door, she sat up on her knees and opened the door, breaking the barrier between herself and the ear splitting noise concocted of people, music, and other useless sounds. Finally getting back on her feet, she propped herself on walls, doors, and desks for support. Just as freedom seemed ten feet away (in her drunken state, it was about four and a half) she was intercepted by Josh, who may have been as equally wasted as her. As of now, she wasn't much in the mood for anyone as drunk as her.

"I has to go back to Ethan…or something.", Helga stammered. Attempting to move him out of her way, Josh murmured something that Helga couldn't quite comprehend, but whatever it was, it made her crawl back into the bathroom. With people like him and a hundred others walking around, she was sure she wouldn't make it out unharmed. Locking the door, this time, she sat up against the toilet and pulled out her cell phone. She wasn't able to get a signal from where she was, but tried and got the hotel concierge. "Room, uh room 319", she said, as the elevator music temporarily filled her left ear.

"Hello?"

"Pheebs? It's Helga…"

"Helga, where are you calling from? Are you back at the Blue place?", Phoebe asked.

It was right then that Helga started to cry, half out of drunkenness, the other half out of having to tell Phoebe where she really was. Phoebe was one of the few people who thought she was more than what she seemed, that she was a decent, honorable person. "I'm, I'm at a frat house…"

Instead of angry, Phoebe sounded more surprised than anything. "A Frat house? Who do you and Arnold know in a Fraternity?"

Helga started staring out of the blurry window again. If she didn't get out of there soon, she probably would pass out and wake up in the same place. "Arnold's snot ear. We were fighting in I, I ran off.", She said, swallowing the last few tears. She had come here to get her mind off of Arnold, and here she was drunk and sobbing, over it.

Phoebe sat on the other end of the phone, silently. "Helga Geraldine Pataki,..are you DRUNK?"

Helga was now holding the phone away from her ear. So much for Phoebe not sounding upset. Other than this, Helga had alcohol on one occasion, Phoebe's parent's twentieth anniversary party, and even then, it was half a glass of champagne. She'd never really, been "drunk".

"That's aside the point, can you send Gerald to come and pick me up or something?" There was now a pounding on the other side of the door coupled with the complaints of males and females waiting for access to the bathroom.

"What about Arnold?", Phoebe asked.

"He's angry at me; he prolly wouldn't come if I paid him.", Helga said struggling to sit up straight. The pounding in her head had subsided for now, but there seemed to be pounding going on everywhere else.

"Fine, uh are you near that place we went the other night?", Phoebe asked, knowing fairly well that Gerald was not good with directions, and truthfully, neither was Helga in such a state.

"I don't know, maybe.", Helga answered, not sensing the relevance of the question.

"Gerald will meet you there in fifteen minutes. Think you can get out by then?"

"Yup,", Helga said, looking intently at the window. She would do near anything to get out and as far away from that house as possible. Part of her, however wished that it was Arnold coming to get her. Not that she minded Gerald, but it'd give her a better chance to properly apologize. "…One more thing Pheebs."

"What is it?"

"Promise you won't tell Arnold where I am?"

Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!! That was fun! I've never written like that! I mean, I told myself that I was going to finish this chapter before Friday the 9th, and it's 1:01 AM, Friday!!! But usually, I have to push back my deadline if I have writer's block or something. Anyhoo, I really like this chapter, the thought of Helga drunk is kinda funny, but a little sad. Okay, I'm going to bed now!! Kiss, Kiss, Goodnight, Goodnight!!!

My Stars

- I never curse in my fan fiction, or at all for that matter, and the fact that I said pissed is pushing it…especially for me!

-I know a lot of people on here are in college (cough, cough, Jae B), and possibly in fraternities and sororities, so I'm not trying to make fun of anybody!! I love you all!!!

Oh yes, and please review!!! Mwah!

-Pointy Objects a.k.a. Antoinette


	12. This Ride

**The final chapter, wow, I can barely believe it! Actually, Ruthless might not necessarily be over. I've been juggling a few ideas for a sequel, or a way to continue it. It might just be an add on, or I might start a new story from this one. Don't get your hopes up; I change my mind all the time. Anyway, as of now this is the final chapter for Ruthless, and I'm very happy with it. Hope you are too.**

**Warning 1: I am terrible with endings…so please don't hurt me if you throw your computer off of a building after reading this.**

**Warning 2: I hate (HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE) writing kissing scenes…I, just hate 'em. So, don't get mad if this sucks. Cuz, it will. Rather badly. Thank You.**

**Chapter Twelve: Round Trip**

I'm lifting you up,

I'm letting you down,

I'm dancing till dawn,

I'm fooling around,

I'm not giving up,

I'm making your love

This city's made us crazy

And we must get out…

Maroon5: Must Get Out

"Hey, Hey wake up. Let's go…"

After her tiring trek out of a window, across a lawn of similarly drunk twenty-something year olds, and then a block in a half, the last thing she needed was to be nudged, or hit rather. Helga had waited exactly seven minutes and twelve seconds for Gerald to arrive, and after only three minutes, and fourteen of them, she found herself asleep on a nearby bench. It was too early for anyone to be in the club, and so the music that permeated the wall was barely audible outside.

Blinking hard for a few minutes, Helga deemed herself ready to face a dark, dizzy, and overall scary world. Leaning on the bench for support, she was able to stand up straight and take a few steps before using light posts and mailboxes for support. Phoebe hadn't told Gerald why he had to go pick up Helga, just saying that she couldn't find her way back. So, evidently, he had a few questions.

"So…what's the deal?" he asked, guiding her in a straight line down the cracked sidewalk. He could easily tell that she wasn't quite herself, but he didn't want to jump to the most obvious of conclusions.

"Deal?" Helga asked, already confused, and not prepared for any riddles. She seemed to be gaining some control of her movements, but limped even after being able to walk relatively upright.

"Your walking like your drunk, you smell like alcohol…and what's wrong with your leg?" he asked, watching her hindered gait as she continued down the street.

Even though it was pretty dark out, the perfectly parted streetlights provided her enough light to clearly identify the stain seeping through her ripped pants. She'd sent a long tear up the thigh of her jeans, and along with it a stretched, jagged cut almost as long. She cringed at the sight of it; she could tell it had been there for a while. The only time she could remember feeling very much of anything was when she crawled out the window of the bathroom. She fell backwards twice before successfully getting out, and the second fall was onto the bathtub faucet. It was too dark to see, but she could feel something wrong with her leg. Instead of waiting and trying to figure out what the cause was, she continued out of the window, only worsening it, and across the back lawn.

"Nothing, I'm fine." she replied, trying to steady her limp, hoping the hotel was someplace close.

"Okay, what about the other stuff?" Gerald asked, persistently. He'd already put two and two together in his mind, but hearing it from her would only solidify his assumptions.

"Gerald, I'm really not in the mood to be inter…intro…asked questions, okay?' Helga responded, a little louder than needed. "Plus, if Arnold found out about this, he'd have my head."

"Found out what? Everybody gets wasted now and then." Gerald said, obviously not understanding the intensity of the situation. Helga made no reply, and seeing the hotel not far off, figured she wouldn't be able to properly explain in time. Not that she really wanted to, but until she was able to get to Phoebe, it would have been nice to confide in somebody.

"You have no idea…"

"I'm not staying in this room, waiting for her to get back…"

At first, Arnold was inclined to keep his thoughts inside his head. But with Helga out of the room, he figured it was safe to voice his feelings as loud as he liked. Of course, he'd added his two cents to the quarrel, but he felt that her walking out was overly dramatic, and childish. But worse, he couldn't get the echo of her words out of his head:

"Not everybody needs _you_, Arnold."

It was never Arnold's "style" to toot his own horn, and he never felt as though he was really needed by people. Though his naturally openhanded manner may have been necessary to some who knew him, but not quite needed.

Whatever the case, Arnold thought it worse to stay in the hotel room and ponder, and proceeded to grab his coat, though not really needing it, and shut the door angrily behind him, ignoring the lights. In the elevator, Arnold slumped against the back wall, and waited for the doors to close.

"Wait…wait, can you hold the door please?"

Arnold positioned his hand in between the cascading doors, and as they parted, he saw Phoebe coming around the corner, with both crutches under her arms. She walked (or hobbled, rather) into the elevator, and leaned her crutches on the opposite wall.

"What are you doing? You should be in bed." Arnold said, forgetting where his previous smidgen of advice got him.

"I'm so sick of that room, I had to get out." Phoebe said jokingly. She knew what was going on already, but didn't have so much of an idea as to how and why it happened. But before she could ask her question, Arnold had voiced his.

"So, where's Gerald?"

Phoebe hadn't thought up an answer for this. Unlike lying for someone like her mother or her next-door neighbor, she was lying for Gerald, someone Arnold knew just as well as she, did if not better. Nevertheless, she and Arnold did share a mutual knowledge about Gerald. His appetite.

"Well, I was waiting for him to bring me something to eat. So, that's where, he, um he is, getting food. Because I asked him to get some food. Because my ankle, and all." Phoebe thought that this was a good place to stop yammering. Anymore and she would accidentally mention something about parties, or worse, Helga. Steering the conversation back to him, she revealed a question of her own. "Everything okay with you?" she asked, knowing well that everything wasn't.

"Sorta. I just had a fight with Helga…" he replied, leaving Phoebe to put the rest of the puzzle together, which she often did anyway. _'Yeah', _his conscience reminded him. _'If just having a fight is two hours ago…'_

"About anything in particular?" she asked. She knew it may have been seen as prying, but this was her best friend, and prying into the goings-on of your best friend isn't prying. It's taking an interest in.

"I think I may have said something stupid." Arnold answered, as the elevator doors opened, revealing the gorgeous hotel lobby. The fully furnished sitting room that neither of them had been in since their first night at the hotel was completely empty. Phoebe sat her self down in the middle of a recliner, and lazily laid her crutches on the ottoman in front of her. She watched as Arnold, took the seat adjacent to hers, on a long brown leather loveseat, sitting to the farthest right.

"Okay, let me clear something up for you…" Phoebe began, maintaining her relaxed composure, but her voice becoming sharp. "She may not always act like it, but under pressure, Helga is like wet tissue paper. If you try to back her into a corner, she falls apart."

Of course, Arnold had seen Helga at her "less than better" times. But imagining Helga as truly vulnerable wasn't quite as easy. Even when it was clear that she was hurting, she could always convince the world, that whatever was going on would soon pass. She effortlessly downplayed every bad occurrence in her life, and did so with the best painted on smile.

Phoebe would have elaborated, but without any prior warning, Gerald came through the rotating door, with Helga in tow. Helga had a firm grasp on the handle inside of the door, and it took her about two full rotations to get out without making a sound. Phoebe turned back to Arnold, who stared silently at his shoes.

"Okay, I think what you should do is, just sit here, and think. Clear your head, for a while, okay?" she suggested, making motions to get up. Arnold attempted to help her, but as long as his back was to the current situation, Helga was safe.

Not noticing that Phoebe was limping away with her crutches in the opposite direction, towards an elevator on the other side of the hotel lobby, Arnold remained seated as persuaded. Intercepting Gerald and Helga, Phoebe motioned towards Arnold's back, and directed both of them into the elevator. Helga didn't make any real protest; she certainly was in no condition to do much of anything. Inside the elevator, Helga slumped to one side and halfheartedly listened to Gerald and Phoebe's conversation, but not understanding much of it.

"Has she been like this since you found her?" Phoebe asked, the speed of her words increasing, as they often did when she got nervous, or agitated.

"Kinda, when I found her she was asleep on a bench." Gerald said. "Was that Arnold you were talking to in the lobby?" Gerald asked, worried that Phoebe's plan would fall apart.

"Yeah, I think I bought us, at least an hour, but we need to get her into her room by then." Phoebe said, thinking out loud. "I need you to get her into my room. That okay?" Phoebe asked. Another aspect of her speech was during a moment of seriousness or crisis, her grammar either got better or worse.

As the elevator doors opened, Phoebe exited first, followed by Gerald, half carrying, half dragging the barely conscience Helga to Phoebe's door, where she was opening the door. The strain on Gerald's arms was near unbearable, and because of such, Helga's meeting to the floor was earlier and far less warned than anyone in the room had expected.

"Gerald!" Phoebe said, looking back at Gerald, then Helga who showed unmistakable signs of waking up. Gerald would have promptly apologized, had Phoebe not interrupted him. "Oh well, it'll easier to ring her neck this way."

"C'mon sleepyhead…" Gerald said, motioning to the corner of the room.

Phoebe's room was relatively similar to Arnold and Helga's, except for the one large bed in the middle, and the ottoman placed in front of the large armchair.

In the bathroom, Phoebe turned on the bathroom faucet. Placing her hand under the running water, she made sure it was the right temperature before turning it off and pulling the small knob on the faucet upwards until it was stationary. Gerald sauntered in, after a minute of struggling to lift Helga, and hoisted her in the bathtub.

"Should we take her clothes off??" Gerald asked, not noticing the gaze Phoebe had aimed at his head. Disregarding the question altogether, Phoebe placed her hand on the water handle and turned it sharply to the right. Cold water flowed from the showerhead, soaking Helga to the bone, and making her sit up straight in the tub. Gasping for air, as though drowning, Helga looked up frantically, to Gerald and Phoebe, chuckling at her. Slightly confused, and completely drenched, Helga remained seated, until Phoebe turned off the water, and Gerald leaned forward to speak.

"Sober yet?"

Helga sat up on Phoebe's armchair, draped in a towel, and waited to be brutally questioned. Even if her parents found out, they couldn't chew her out as hard as Phoebe, who was one of the few people who expected more out of her.

Helga was forced to wear Phoebe's clothes for the time being, which were about two sizes too small. The T-shirt was a dull orange color and showed a large portion of her stomach, and the pants were taking a toll on her hips. She planned on changing back to her own as soon as she was sober and they were dry enough.

"Helga, what exactly happened? It be most advantageous for me to know the circumstances before I interrogate the sanity out of you…" Phoebe said, astonishingly calm. That wouldn't last long.

"It's kinda complicated…"

After Helga was pulled, drenched and dripping from the tub and dried to the best of her ability, Gerald thought it best to leave then. If either of them really wanted him to know what exactly was going on, or why he was once again forced to summon his knowledge of Hippie Movies, they would have told him. But then again, knowing Helga had been drunk during their stay in New York, was enough for him. Just as he was about to enter the elevator and return to his own room, a frustrated sigh came from up the hall. Positioning himself in the elevator to see down the hallway, he saw Arnold fumbling with his hotel key, Gerald leaped out the elevator as it was closing. He knew well, that Helga was going to have to get back into that room, and with Arnold there, the situation had no other way to go but down.

"Hey Buddy…" Gerald said, taking Arnold a little by surprise. He did spend the last fifteen minutes in a silent lobby, and wasn't quite used to the sound of too many voices, even his best friend's.

"Hey…" Arnold said, very much ready to go into his room and sleep away the few hours. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked, cursing himself for not being anti-social enough.

"Just, going to get something to eat." Gerald said, quickly.

"Didn't you just get Phoebe something to eat?" Arnold asked, sensing something hidden going on, but masking his curiosity, nonetheless.

"Yeah, but…you know me!" Gerald said. For the most part, Gerald was right. He contemplated picking something up to eat after finding Helga, but walking into Phoebe's hotel room would have been twice as hard with Helga on one arm and a bag full of Taco Bell on the other. "Hey, wanna come?" Gerald asked. After all, his mission was for Arnold to get out of the room, even for a little while.

"The hotel restaurant is closed, I already tried." Arnold replied, secretly hoping to thwart whatever suspicious activity had triggered Gerald's uncontrollable hunger…again.

"Let's get outta this place, we'll be back by eleven…" Gerald said, slowly spinning Arnold into Helga and Phoebe's web of deceit.

Arnold had no choice but to oblige, Gerald wasn't about to give up, and no sooner had Arnold actually figured out how to properly open the door did Gerald convince him to leave. Wonderful.

"Okay, they're gone…" Phoebe said, dashing back into her room as quickly as possible on one foot. Slamming the door behind her, she found Helga lying on her bed, with her head draped over the front end, staring at the carpet. She could sense her hurt, and maybe even her anger, but Helga did have the tendency to over exaggerate certain situations. Especially when she was in the wrong.

"I think I did something stupid, Phoebe…" Helga said, without looking up.

"Hmm, stubborn minds think alike…" Phoebe said, thinking out loud again.

Helga's head popped up for a moment, but not catching quite what Phoebe said. Either way, Helga was waiting for Phoebe's all knowing voice of reason to enter the conversation. Instead, Phoebe's voice or reason, sounded a lot like Helga's. "I think you know what to do, Helga." Phoebe replied, silently directing her to the door.

Helga sighed, and pulled her own pants over Phoebe's shorts. At the moment, she was tired, confused, and only partially sober, and trying to change in this state would have been redundant and pointless. Muttering a thank you before leaving, Helga slipped into her pants pocket, which now hugged her hips and thighs in a very moist and uncomfortable way.

"Am I really _that_ dense?" Arnold asked, one time too many. He'd barely touched his food, and performed two actions the entire night: talked about his fight with Helga, and looked at his watch.

Gerald was getting a little tired of beating around the bush as well. Every time Arnold asked him a question, he would give his expected best friend reply, which usually consisted of a "Don't beat yourself up" and "Everyone has his or her days". But after fifty or so attempts, even friendly falsehoods got old.

"Yeah."

"What?" Arnold was a little taken back by the reply he got from Gerald. Of course, he wanted an honest answer, but there was a thin line between honest and brutally honest, and Gerald was hanging on the border.

"You are a little dense sometimes." Gerald said, finally finishing with his food, although it was hard to tell there was anything on the plate from the remnants (or lack thereof) in front of him.

"Really?" Arnold asked again. He wasn't going to drop this conversation until he knew Gerald was certain about his answer. Maybe he ate too much and didn't hear him right.

"Sometimes." Gerald repeated, putting stress on the word this time. Either way, he felt the need to explain. "I get why you'd be mad and everything, but, from what you're telling me, this is the first time you guys have really fought about anything serious."

Arnold wasn't quite catching the message. Whether they fought the first night or the last, the point was that they fought. What's done was done, and he didn't see why the time of its occurrence was relevant. Without much thought behind it, he replied as anyone would who had no idea of what was going on:

"So…?"

"So, if she was really out to get you, wouldn't she have picked a fight with you sooner?" Gerald said, finally applying his level of maturity properly. He may have come off a little strongly, but what he said was true. Helga wasn't completely to blame. "Look, I'm sure she's up in the room right now, doing the same thing your doing now."

Arnold couldn't help but agree with Gerald. Even if he didn't voice it right away. Helga may not have been the most remorseful person on earth, but she could admit defeat just like anyone else. Going back to the hotel would give him some time to prepare how to properly get everything resolved, with the least amount of yelling as possible. Standing up, he silently waved his white flag and prepared for Gerald to lecture him the entire way back to the hotel, which wasn't far.

"Let's go." Arnold said, sighing heavily.

"Good, it's almost eleven…" Gerald replied.

"Eleven?"

10:43.The bright red numbers stood out above the darkness that shrouded the room. Other than the streetlights and whatnot that shined from behind the heavy draperies in the room, there was no other source of light. Helga kept the lights turned off, and stayed in bed. Everything in the room somehow reminded her of Arnold, and in such, she had resolved not to let so much as a single tear escape from their barrier and stain her pillows. Despite the heat that set the room ablaze, Helga only dove deeper into the comforter. The pants she wore so casually over Phoebe's shorts were still wet around the bottom, but overall comfortable. She didn't bother to change out of her clothes (or Phoebe's rather), finding them more of a burden, than a blessing. After getting inside, she removed her shoes and crawled into bed, hoping to remove all thoughts of anything.

10:49. Helga was beginning to worry now. Part of her wondered if Arnold had the same thoughts running through his mind after she'd stormed out, not that her actions deserved any such concern. She'd been self-centered and antagonistic for the past few days, and every recollected moment only made her feel worse.

Rolling back over and keeping her back to the door, Helga buried her face in her pillow, denying the one tear that had broken free. As the near-invisible line made its way down the side of her tilted face, she whispered, barely audible:

"I am so sorry, Arnold."

"We barely made it, man. See ya tomorrow." Gerald said, exiting the now opened elevator, and jetting Arnold back into consciousness. He waved a silent goodbye to his friend and felt the elevator doors cascade inwards and meet before moving upwards. The twelve seconds he spent alone on the elevator were more than enough time to formulate how best he could approach Helga. That was, if she was in the room at all.

She'd left hours ago, and there was no sure fire guarantee that she would be there when he was back. In fact, from his point of view, it was almost impossible that she could even be in there. He'd only been out of the room for a few minutes after talking to Phoebe, and after that, not much more than a half hour out with Gerald. And even so, the restaurant they chose to dine at was a fast food, all night place, which was on the same block as the hotel. There was a very slim chance that Helga could have passed by without him noticing.

Getting into the room relatively quickly, Arnold ignored the lights until after hurling his gray fleece onto the easily visible armchair. Arnold did not remember turning off any lights after leaving, but figured that the maids had dashed in to replace _their _towels or something. Despite anything that may have occurred during the course of the trip, or what the outcome of the rest of it would be, Arnold still considered this also to be Helga's room. Switching the lights on, Arnold jumped backwards at the familiar crooked lump submerged in the blankets of Helga's bed. Pretending as though she were not there, he resumed his former actions, which proved particularly difficult, as Helga's face peeked out from a corner of the comforter. Instead of changing into his conventional pajamas, Arnold shed only his shoes and returned to the front of the room. As he glanced at Helga, he could have sworn he saw a glint on her partially opened eye. Disregarding the thought altogether, Arnold turned the lights off, blanketing the room in darkness again. Ignoring the covers, Arnold lay himself on top of the bed, and turned onto his side.

Helga traced the silhouette of Arnold against the dim light the window provided from outside. From the way his shoulders slumped to the curve of his neck, she could easily discern that he had his back to her. He couldn't even bear to look at her in the dark. She had right to feel bad. Had they not been paired up, had she not fought about every little thing on earth, there was a little to no chance that they'd be on the terms they were on now.

"Arnold?" Helga said, keeping her tone low, so low she could hardly hear herself. The wait for a reply seemed like eons. She could almost feel his anger permeating the warm air, intertwining with the sudden cold that had overtaken her body, making her clutch the blankets and pull them closer to her. Sitting up straight in her bed, Helga was convinced that it'd be better to apologize and get everything over with before morning. That way, she could sleep with a clear conscience (if she could sleep at all), and on the off chance that she woke up cranky, she'd have little to nothing to worry about.

"Arnold?" she said, projecting her voice more, but maintaining her volume, given the darkness. Helga remained motionless, awaiting some kind of response. A thousand different thoughts filed into her head, most of them revolved around the possibility that Arnold was as well at holding a grudge as she was, and would do so as long as needed. Despite this, Helga continued with her apology, whether or not Arnold was going to hear her out or not.

"I'm sorry…if I ruined your trip."

With that, she plunged back under the comforters, facing the wall of the bathroom. This time, however, she squeezed her eyes shut so hard, the Nile River would have had a difficult time breaking through. Unable to get to sleep, Helga merely listened to the rhythmic sounds of New York at night, inept to enjoy any of it.

"You didn't."

Helga turned, convinced that she was hearing things. She was positive that Arnold was aware of her presence since he entered the room; she'd watched him walk around the room from the corner of her eye while pretending to sleep. She didn't want him thinking she was waiting up for him, even if she was. Either way, there was a very small chance that she'd heard anything at all. Against her instinct, she turned, almost sitting up, and leaning her weight on her elbows.

"Wha'?" she replied. If on the off chance that he did say something, her reply would let him know that she was at least open to discussing their fight. And if he didn't, he hadn't replied to her first outburst, and would, in turn, ignore this one, passing it off as her moving around too much. Just as Helga was about to turn back around, Arnold's voice rang out again.

"I said you didn't. You didn't ruin my vacation."

Arnold couldn't just sit there (or lie there, rather) and not say anything. It wasn't so much that Helga apologized that humbled him. Helga could feign remorse whenever she needed to. More distressing was the tone of her voice that may have sent him over the edge. She sounded as though she were either on the verge of tears, or had just finished shedding tears. It was too dark to justify which was the case. Phoebe said so herself, Helga was usually a strong person. How could he drive her to become so vulnerable?

The ivory colored lamp on the nightstand that separated them was neglected until now. Before, both Arnold and Helga were satisfied with using the light switch to turn on the ceiling lamp, instead of using the one on the nightstand. Arnold reached over to the lamp, and felt around until he found the thin beaded cord that ignited the lamp. The light barely lit up the entire room, but equally shed enough light between the two of them. From under the lampshade, the light came off as gray, sending a weird shadow across the faces of both of the room occupants.

"I didn't mean to…overreact. I was just so angry at you, and I wasn't thinking straight." Helga said, bowing her head, and clutching the blankets with both hands.

"I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that, you just worry me sometimes; you're so unpredictable." Arnold wasn't looking for an excuse for his actions. Helga's attitude changed with the seasons, and was about as predictable as she was redheaded. Her emotions drove almost every action she performed, often making the consequences harder to swallow.

Helga flopped backwards, and stared up at the ceiling. For the first time in days, she was happy to be in that room. For the majority of the trip, Helga wanted to get as far away from room 312 of Ethan Hall Inn as humanly possible. But, at the moment, she couldn't find a more relaxing place to be. "Did you think any of this would happen when we started sharing this room?" Helga asked, remembering the first night she spent in the room.

Arnold had to ponder that for a while. "I wasn't really expecting anything. I mean, this is the first time anything like this has ever happened to me; I wasn't sure what to expect…"

"Well, at least this room wasn't flooded." Helga said, chuckling to herself. At least she was chuckling. Arnold wasn't laughing at all. Helga sensed this and looked over, not anticipating the confused look on his face.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you don't remember!" Helga said, sitting up, keeping her legs under the blankets, but propping herself up against the headboard. "The ants, the faucet, that stupid potato…forget it. I'm going to the bathroom." Helga had given up trying to play mental Photo Album for Arnold, and went to put on a pair of properly dry pajama pants. Upon getting up, Arnold noticed the gash in her jeans.

"Helga, what's that on your leg?" Arnold asked, before freaking out about what may have been a simple food stain.

Helga turned, not hearing the entire question, and in doing so, answered it without speaking. The tear in her jeans hadn't gotten any better, and the wound was still visible and stained the frayed ends of the tear.

"What happened to your leg? It's bleeding!" Arnold said, stating the obvious rather loudly. Helga signaled for him to be quiet and took her seat on her bed. Helga wasn't too eager to tell about her "battle scar". But there seemed to be no way out of it.

"I got it after trying to crawl out a window…" she whispered, her tone reverting back to repentant felon.

"A window? Why were you trying to crawl out of a window? Whose window?" Arnold asked, shooting questions off at a mile a minute.

Why couldn't he just settle with that? "I was leaving a party. A frat party." There she said it. She could die without regret.

"What on earth were you doing at a frat party? Do you know what happens to high school girls who go to frat party's?" Arnold asked, sounding more like Helga's father than he would have had he found out that she was at a frat party. And then some.

In her defense, Helga spoke out too quickly, without putting much thought behind her words. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Plus you'd be pretty uncoordinated after drinking that much…oh." Helga dug herself into a rather deep hole.

"You drank? Did somebody do that to you?" he said, pointing to her leg again, and on the verge of truly freaking out. The look on his face was either fear or anger. Or both. Whichever the case, if she were to tell him that it was in fact a who, not a what, that marked her; he was liable to seriously hurt someone.

"No," Helga said, pausing to soak everything in. Helga had to fight just to stay awake. Trying to divulge the correct information was a formidable task. "I was trying to get out, and I guess I wasn't exactly…coordinated."

"At least let me clean it. It might not be infected." Arnold got up and turned on the bathroom light. Running water from the faucet and onto a washcloth. After wringing it out until there was just enough water to suffice the need, Arnold flicked off the light, and carried the wet washcloth back into the center of the room. It took Helga a full minute to notice Arnold's impatient glare.

"What?" Helga asked innocently, suspecting she may have done something yet again to fuel the fire.

"I'm gonna try to clean your cut now, okay?" Arnold said, as though speaking to a truly drunk person. After the mutual apology, Arnold knew better than to say anything that would jeopardize the newly mended friendship.

"Okay…" Helga replied, mimicking his way of speech.

Arnold sighed and rolled his eyes. This wasn't going to be easy. "Helga…I need you to take off your pants." If anything in the world sounded worse than that, Arnold had yet to hear it.

"What is it with the whole world wanting me to get naked tonight!!" Helga said, standing up and throwing her arms up, melodramatically. Calming down, she made her way to the bathroom. "I have shorts on underneath, so don't get too excited." she said, a hint of a snicker in her voice. Movement could be heard from inside, noting that she was having a hard time removing her pants. "It's really not that big…" Helga said, with the creak of the door.

"Let me see it anyway." Arnold replied, motioning over to her bed, where the comforter and woolen blanket lay overturned on one end. Helga sat, submissive, and let Arnold dab the moist cloth on her cut. Her leg was no longer bleeding, but had not completely closed up in some places. As Arnold continued to clean her minor gash, Helga stared at the top of his head. Her guilt only intensified, causing her to speak out, as she often did, without thinking.

"You really should stop." Helga said, looking more troubled than before.

"Stop what? I'm almost finished." Arnold responded, a second before backing away to examine his work. His expression went from pleased to worried. Helga looked as though the world was on her shoulders, and she was about to falter. "You okay?" he asked, taking a seat on his bed, parallel to her.

"I've treated you like crap, ruined your vacation, acted like a spoiled brat, and here you are, yet again, helping me out. Why don't you hate me? Why aren't you ignoring me? At least I'd know I deserve it." Helga said.

Even after all fences seemed to be mended, Arnold could tell Helga was still beating herself up. "I'm not angry at you-"

"Why not?" Helga said, cutting him off in mid sentence. Backing up, defensively, trying to control her emotions. "Every time I screw you over, you just forgive me."

"Would you rather I hold a grudge against you?" Arnold asked, slightly baffled, but not near as high-strung as Helga. She was feeling responsible, and Arnold could understand why. For most, blame had to be assigned to someone to resolve a disagreement, and instead of throwing the burden on someone else, Helga pinpointed herself as the culprit.

Helga avoided Arnold's eyes, and looked anxiously at the floor. Of course she didn't want Arnold to hold a grudge against her. She'd been down that road before, and overall, it was long and lonely. But that he made it so easy for her to mess up and be instantly exonerated, also added to the burden.

"Exactly. Now, I think it's time to go to bed. We're going to enjoy our last day in New York…" Arnold said, reaching for the lamp.

"Thank You…" Helga said, a split-second before the room was once again engulfed in darkness so different from the last. Unlike the former, every sound and movement, inside or outside the room was dangerous and frightening. Helga could now sleep calmly despite any noises, as could Arnold.

"Helga?"

"Yes…" she replied, groggily, even though it had been a mere seconds since Arnold had turned out the lights.

"You never answered my question…"

"What question?" Helga asked. She may have still been partially intoxicated, but she didn't remember any questions.

"If I were to tell you something deep and personal, would you believe me?"

The room was soon draped in silence. Helga didn't reply at all, and Arnold ha already turned back on his side, assuming that Helga had fallen asleep or decided against replying. Thinking the soft rustling was just her getting comfortable, Arnold resumed his sleeping pose. Arnold hadn't realized just how cold the room was until he felt he felt Helga's hands cradling his face, and her lips unrepentantly meet his.

Usually, one's first impulse would be to draw away. Foreign lips charting trails on yours would be enough to unnerve anybody. Instead, Arnold and Helga received and parted mutually. Everything about he moment was perfect, their lips brushing lightly over one another's, even the way Helga's hands remained for an instant after their separation.

Within no time, Helga was back in her bed, blushing so deeply, that she may have burned a hole in the cotton pillows. In her newfound excitement, Helga found it easier and more relaxing to fall asleep.

Meanwhile, Arnold lay staring at the ceiling, which spanned miles tonight, and recapped the past few seconds. Yes, Helga had just kissed him…or was it the other way around. There was no denying that he welcomed it, although unexpected. And wasn't accepting something the same thing as partaking in it?

'Wonderful…' he thought, quietly. 'I really am starting to sound like her…'

**You guys…have no idea! I am so happy right now!**

**That last scene was so hard to write, hope I'd done enough of a good job for you guys, thanks!**

**I did it! I wrote it!!! Oh, and scratch the beginning, I have one more chapter to go. It'll be short, but I love it I can't believe I wrote this chapter, it was so hard! I was literally up at 3 in the morning trying to soak up all inspiration for the end!! Wow, I'm so happy!! Okay, you read it, now review! G'night!**


	13. Round Trip

**Last chapter! This is so bittersweet. So, as a final farewell, a shout-out to everyone who replied to Chapter 12, goodbye all!**

**DarthRoden- **Don't sweat the reviews, it takes me forever to actually review to a story I like. Thanks for the review anyway!

**Athyna-** Thank you so much! I feel better about writing kissing scenes now…and I can't wait to unveil my newest story. I actually had a separate idea for a story, but it's most likely going to be a continuation of this one. I smell a sequel…

**InuYasha's Kagome-** Thanks for the review. As for the kiss, it was essentially to show that she could trust him (I know a couple of guys I'd like to "trust"…sorry, I'm being crazy…). But no, they weren't sharing a bed…I reread that part and it does sound like that. Sorry for the confusion****

**RuffMaster/X Shin X-** Wait! Where are you going? I'm not done yet! And did you change your name? I wasn't sure. Oh well. Thanks for your review!BellaMay76- Thank you for the review…I always look forward to yours. I would like to add a comment on how you should have smuggled me into a Clay Aiken concert, but I remember how he kinda looks like my ex, but then I remember how that's not really a bad thing…so feel free to mail me a ticket!Amelia Badelia- Wow. That was a really nice review…, which I kinda didn't expect…because some of your other ones were…less than nice. But I don't want people to hold grudges against me for my reviews, so I don't do so either. Thank you.

**Eienvine**- Awww, you liked my kissing scene…I'm so happy, cuz I kinda hated it…thank you all the same!

**Michelle**- I was ACTUALLY going for a "shock" effect, where it was supposed to come out of nowhere, glad it did! Thanks for reviewing!

**Smoking Panda**- I had to make them kiss…it couldn't be stopped…thank you for appreciating that.

**LilL**- It was wonderful? Really? You're too sweet (blushing) Thank You so much for the review!

**TheBaldOneMpls**- Thank you for your review. Having an apartment that close to the ground can be an advantage, seeing as my bedroom window is about 13 feet off the ground, and it's hard trying to climb through the window on top of an upside down trashcan in your mom's flower garden, because you forgot your keys inside (again) and you really have to go to the bathroom, and the middle schoolers are coming up the street and I'm talking too much, thanks for reviewing…

**Starship Gazer**- I'm trying REALLY hard to come up with a sequel, and I think I've got one cooked up, so look out! Thanks for the review!

**Jae B**- Yeah, I've never been drunk, so…I kinda went on what I saw from Family Guy, where Stewie dragged Brian into the bathroom, and poured cold water on him…he sobered up pretty quickly. But then he's a dog…and a cartoon dog at that. So don't listen to me, I don't know any better! Thanks for the review!

**Demile**- I know! I don't want it to end either! I'm so sad; I've been stalling this chapter for a while. No time but the present, I suppose…

Okay, the (sniff, sniff) last (sniff) chapter. Read on…

**Chapter 13: Round Trip**

Are we growing up?

Or just going down?

It's just a matter of time, until we're all found out  
Take our tears and put them on ice

'Cause, I swear,

I'd burn this city down to show you the light…

-FallOut Boy "Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year"

"If F of X equals -2, then y is…uh…"

It was hard enough that a day before The Senior Trip commenced; she had a mound of homework to do. Most people had completed all of theirs a few days in advance, but being the procrastinator that she was, she couldn't quite get it. And to top it off, the phone across her bedroom was now ringing furiously. No doubt it was Phoebe, to properly distract her from her studies for the next hour or so.

"Yeah?" she said impatiently, always prepared to talk, but obviously lacking the time to. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and cheek, she tried to concentrate on her work and the voice on the other end of the line, which until now had said nothing.

"…Is that how we answer a phone?"

The voice was oddly familiar, only raspy and far-away sounding. It was almost like a horror film where the mass murderer asks you your favorite Scary Movie and proceeds to use it as a guide on how to end your life.

"Who is this?" Helga asked, trying to keep her composure. Phoebe had told her about the numerous times Gerald would call with an "unusual" voice, but she'd never done that to her. Not to mention Gerald didn't even know her number. Instead of just jumping to conclusions, Helga listened for a moment, and hoped whoever this was would reveal himself, without her help.

"So, why are you up to late? Isn't it passed your bedtime?"

His voice, if it happened to be a HIM, was surprisingly smooth beneath the hoarse blanket that seemed to surround it. Scary, nonetheless, but intriguing still.

"Just finishing something up…you?" Helga asked, making her voice sound equally as interested and alluring, even though she was neither. The overall thought of it was…fun, and a bit horrifying at the same time.

"Just wanted to call and tell you…that you look phenomenal in that outfit…"

Okay, the line that parted "Ha ha, I have a pretend stalker" and "Oh crap, I have a stalker" was officially crossed, and Helga now had reason to be scared. Her sleeping attire was never decent; mainly because she never felt the need to be. She was in her room, in her house, thus giving her whatever merit she needed to wear whatever she wanted.

"Okay, this is not funny anymore! Who are you!" Helga said, stern into the phone, her hand gripping the receiver so hard, it seemed as if it were about to crack slowly then shatter to pieces on the dimly lit computer table.

Between her words, she couldn't help but hear the faint sounds of what sounded like either crying or laughter.

"Answer me! I swear, I'll have the police on you're a-"  
More laughter. Or crying. Her words weren't fazing anyone, not even herself. She'd either have to learn how to tap a phone line on five seconds or just…

Helga held the phone a few inches from her face, but close enough to hear the voice on the other end that was more than likely laughing at her, and thinking of ways to prepare her body for ingestion.

(A/N: Yes, I saw Hannibal, and I think I'd notice if some guy was eating my brain…)  
Pressing a random number, but staying clear of the OFF button. Silently placing her hand over the mouthpiece, Helga waited for whomever she was talking to, to reveal himself. After another few seconds, the voice on the other end began to quiet down and notice that Helga (and her demanding tone) was absent.

"Helga?"

Helga kept her hand still, trying to avoid friction from her hand to the mouthpiece.

"Helga!"

Helga inwardly laughed at her simplistic cunning and her decision to switch to a cordless phone.

"C'mon Helga, I was just kidding!"

"Arnold! I'm gonna kill you!" Helga yelled into the phone, laughing loud and long. Abandoning her seat in front of her desk, she laid face-up on her bed, and listen to Arnold's laughter blend with hers. It was times like this that having her own phone line was a definite advantage.

Her parents never really cared who called exactly. If it were someone for her, they'd just call up the stairs and wait for her to pick it up. The exclusion of that factor prevented a lot of the misnaming Bob had done to her friends. And in the case of Arnold, he was the only guy she could properly and truly laugh (and on occasion cry) in front of and not feel emotionally overexposed.

"Glad to hear from you too. Ready for tomorrow?" he asked, after calming down.

"Not quite. Got a little packing to do. And some homework. You?" Helga said, now physically occupied by flipping the pages of the hard bound Thesaurus that sat next to her bed, should any inspiration arrive in the middle of the night.

"All done. Ya need a ride? For tomorrow I mean…"

"Aww, how sweet" Helga said, mocking innocence. "No thanks. Olga's giving me a ride tomorrow morning." Helga replied.

"Leaving my baby out there…all alone. I think I'm having a moment." he said, his melodramatic sobs and short breaths only making Helga narrow her eyes and roll them. Everyone knew that Arnold's "Baby" was anything but. It was a 1999 Toyota Avalon. Despite being a few years older than the brand new models, he waxed and washed and cared for it like it was a Rolls Royce.

"So, just to make sure…you're at home, right?" Helga asked.

"Yeah" Arnold replied, quizzically.

"Four and half blocks away, right?" she asked again.

"Yes, why?" Arnold asked. All these questions about his locations made him think he was being stalked now.

"Nothing, just as long as you stay that far away when we get to New York, everything will be fine." she answered, sarcastically. She had no ill will towards Arnold of course; it was just funnier to pretend that she despised him. Neither of them had changed much, other than physically. Helga was still able to wrestle any guy into submission, but saved her energy for sarcasm and whatever sport she felt like playing that week. Arnold on the other hand grew a thicker skin, put up with Helga and her oftentimes hilarious cynicism and even counter attack it sometimes.

"Who says I won't steal into your room and watch you sleep?"

"Who says I'll let you?"

Who says you won't?"

Helga rolled her eyes again. "Goodnight, Arnold."

"'Night…"

"Can I have a key to Room…313? I left mine in there when I went out for breakfast…the name's Helga Pataki…"

After having the spare key handed to her, she made her way back to the elevator. A small grin found its way to her face, knowing well that she had lied, and managed to keep a straight face about it. Her companion, however, was not aware of her intentions for obtaining the key, and proceeded to question her, until she caved in.

"Tell me! Why do you need a key to their room?" Gerald asked, still slightly peeved because his breakfast (the only part of the conversation with the concierge that may have been the truth) was cut short, just so Phoebe could steal a key to her best friends hotel room.

"I just need to see if she's okay. No one answered the phone this morning." Phoebe said, conclusively, knowing already that she was right.

"So? That doesn't mean anything except that she slept in today." Gerald replied, still not catching the drift that had eluded him for the duration of the vacation.

"Helga never sleeps in…" Phoebe said, once more grinding Gerald's so-called opinion straight into the ground. "And there's no guarantee that Arnold was even in the room." Phoebe added, as the elevator doors split, revealing the two hallways that made up the 3rd floor.

"Hello? Anyone there…?" Phoebe said, tapping on the door lightly. She waited for a response before attempting to knock again. Gerald on the other hand, wasn't feeling quite as serene.

"Why are you knocking when you have a key!"

"I don't wanna just go in there, uninvited."

"Then why did you steal the key?" Gerald replied, growing more and more impulsive the longer that they stood out side.

"You seem to forget that Helga is suffering from a possible-"

Meanwhile

Hangover. Hangover, hangover, hangover. It was bad enough that she had "technically" engaged in an illegal activity the night before (although it seemed like years ago) and without much deliberation inadvertently partook in "physical contact" with her best male friend. Underneath her covers, she nearly screamed with humiliation, and realization of the night before. And needless to say, Arnold wasn't quite helping at the moment…

"Seven hours, fifty-six minutes…"

Helga popped her eyes open for the one, two…fourth time that morning, but refused to turn her head or make any motions that would indicate that he had actually woken her up,…again. But when she really thought about it, it was relatively…sweet. At least he didn't scream her awake.

"Seven minutes, fifty-"

"Arnold?" she said, meekly from underneath the covers.

"Yes, Helga?" he asked, knowing she had given in and woken up. After all, he had been at this since nine o' clock that morning. It was about time for some results.

"Do you know what a hangover is?" she asked, pushing the covers off of herself, giving up on sleep altogether. "Lemme tell you what it's-"

"I know what a hangover is, Helga." Arnold interrupted. "I have been drunk too before, ya know…" he continued, as though every soul on the face of the planet had been drunk at least once in their lives.

Helga calmed down at his inadvertent confession. Arnold? Drunk?

"When did this happen?" Helga asked, trying not to sound too eager to hear about his ordeal.

"Remember last year? At what's his face's party?" he asked, hoping she'd have some clue where he was coming from.

Helga was, needless to say…clueless. She'd attended countless parties hosted by people she barely knew, or didn't at all. Such are the luxuries of high school.

Arnold unfortunately had no relationship with the host that night (or ever) either, and was dragged to the get-together by Gerald. "The party where…" he began, trying to search his mind for something that happened that night that would spark her memory. He was almost certain she was there, and had witnessed it as well. "…the party where Rhonda was dancing on the guy's dinner table and got her hair caught in his mother's chandelier!" he said.

"Oh, yeah! That one!" Helga said, trying to resist laughing at the reminiscence. Even to this day, people would walk behind Rhonda and pretend to pull out tiny bits of crystal from her now long hair.

"Well, I had some drinks and that's it. Gerald took me to his house."

'Why on earth is everybody else's drunken bouts so less excruciating than mine?' Helga wondered. Evidently, he'd learned from his mistakes; he'd only been drunk once. She, on the other hand, had lived with one for all of her life, and still hadn't managed to avoid it.

"Hey, I know what your thinking and I don't think you should beat your self up about it." he said, sitting on the opposite side of her bed.

"Will do…" she replied, flopping back down on the bed, and attempted to snatch her covers back over her head.

"No, you have to wake up now." Arnold said, grabbing the opposite end of the blankets, and swiftly pulling it towards him. Helga mumbled something from her fetal position in the center of the bed. "It is my last day in New York, for who knows how long, and I don't plan on spending it watching you sleep."

Helga flipped onto her back, which ached slightly from her sleeping position, and propped her self up, by her arms. "You were watching me sleep?"

"You know what I mean…" he said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed and resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

"If you let me sleep for…ten more minutes, and I'll buy you lunch." Helga requested. Any rest that she could get would be well appreciated, even if it was only ten minutes.

"Sure, whatever…" he said, just before gnawing at the nail on his index finger.

Sighing deeply, Helga lay back down, and resumed her position, only with her legs stretched, and began to doze comfortably, even without the covers. Not long after, Arnold decided to get some extra shut ye as well.

"Why are we sneaking into their room? I pretty sure this is a felony in New York." Gerald said, attempting to whisper, and emphasize the word "_their"_.

"Because," Phoebe began. "In there is my best friend with an obvious hangover, and yours who is probably still angry."

"See now, why you gotta make my friend look like the bad guy? Your friend's the one who got drunk…" Gerald said crossing his arms outside the hotel room labeled 313.

"Shhhh…" Phoebe said, sliding the card into the device on the door, and slowly opening it. She wasn't sure if the door was creaky, and opened it as slowly as possible so as not to make a sound.

Behind her, Gerald grew impatient. It'd felt like hours that Phoebe had been opening the door, and still her head could barely fit in the crack. He took it upon himself to push the door open slightly, which sent Phoebe stumbling forward.

Phoebe whirled around as best she could with her injured foot, and fiercely held her finger to her pursed lips and peeked around the corner. Gerald, on the other hand, walked into the room like it was his own.

On the bed closest to the door, Helga and Arnold dozed almost identically, save for the fact that they faced opposing directions. Each slept on top of the covers, and was overall motionless except for a twitch here or there.

"They look fine to me." Gerald said, turning back to Phoebe.

Phoebe's exasperated look soon dimmed the non-chalant one that was painted on Gerald's face. "You think this is 'Fine'?" she asked. "They're in a bed together!"

"I realize that. But they were also in a bed together the first night we were here, and apparently, nothing happened." Gerald pointed out matter-of-factly.

"But please remember, _sweetheart _that in that instance there was only **one **bed in this room. Now there are **two**, and they're _sharing _it." Phoebe replied, still trying to whisper between her clenched teeth.

"I know that, but-"

Gerald was abruptly cut off by the movement on the bed. Helga had sat up, and begun running her fingers through her hair, all without opening her eyes. Gerald and Phoebe decided that during her long, loud yawn was the best time to make their escape, with Gerald carrying a limping Phoebe 1/3 of the way.

Helga peered around at the sudden noise and closing of the door. Jumping up, she walked to the door and opened it just enough to see if anyone was walking down the hallway. Seeing no one, Helga closed the door, and walked back to the bed and pulled her suitcase from underneath it. The sound of its zipper whizzing from one side of the suitcase to the other made Arnold stir atop the bed.

"Shower's free if you want it." Helga said, not looking up from her scrambled clothes. She was currently inspecting each article of clothing, which included, unfolding it, holding it away from herself, sniffing it, and throwing it in one of two piles behind her.

There she was. Doing that thing again. Going about her day like she's the only one in it. Sitting on a hotel floor, sniffing clothes, and being perfectly content.

Seeing as he wasn't making any recognizable motions towards the bathroom, Helga went on talking. "What's the plan for today?"

"I…really have no idea. Call Phoebe or something…" he replied, turning over to resume sleep.

"And do what? Baby-sit her and Geraldo on their strolls around who knows where? Sorry, I'll have to pass on that one." she said, turning around to see Arnold's head back on _her _pillow. Sitting up straighter, she reached over the side of the bed. "No way, buddy. If I gotta wake up, so do you…c'mon…"

Arnold muffled something from his face buried in the pillow, before lazily moving off of the bed and trudged into the bathroom. As soon as he'd closed the door, the phone rang.

"Hello?" Helga said into the phone and sitting where Arnold was just lying. "Yes…okay…okay…thank you. See you in a few hours." Helga hung up the phone, and made her way back to the other side of the room.

"Who was that?" Arnold called from the bathroom. He'd obviously already started the shower and could barely be heard over it.

"Mr. Willis needs everyone to bring their bags downstairs by noon. The train takes us home at six, but he needs our stuff first." Helga replied before turning sharply towards the bathroom. Midway in her sentence, she'd heard the evident moving of shower curtains and a nervous moan, if not shriek from the bathroom.

Knocking on the door first, Helga was worried that in his exhausted state, Arnold had fallen asleep in the shower and gotten a concussion.

"You alright in there?" she said, her brow furrowed. "I'm coming in…" she called into the bathroom. She could only hope that he was…decent.

Upon opening the door, Helga saw the bathroom unchanged from the night before…for the most part. Except for Arnold standing next to the sink without a shirt on and the clothes he was most likely going to change into on the seat of the toilet, Helga couldn't see anything that would have caused the disturbance she imagined. The uneasy look on Arnold's face and his apparent need for a distraction made her think otherwise.

"What's going on in here?" Helga asked, once she distracted herself from Arnold's chest.

"There's something in the shower…" Arnold said, managing to avoid looking at it.

"What? A cadaver?" Helga asked, not immediately realizing that something in the shower caused him to get unusually quiet.

Pulling aside the portion of the shower curtain that was still attached to the rings, Helga eyed the shower for anything remotely frightening. Seeing nothing, she turned back around to find Arnold in virtually the same position as before.

"I don't see anything." she said, wondering if this was all just a joke.

"It's…" he said, motioning to the ceiling.

Helga first looked directly above her head, and followed an invisible line to the ceiling over the shower. Squinting to properly identify the object that sent Arnold into a frightened daze, Helga couldn't help but smile a little. Standing on the side of the tub, Helga drew an invisible circle around the tiny creature until it was off of the wall. As she pointed her finger straight ahead, she watched as the little being squirmed.

"Do you need me to lift the toilet seat up?" Arnold asked.

Helga turned at the entrance of the bathroom and smiled again. "I'm not going to flush it!"

"Why not?"

"Arnold….I'm shocked. You want me to actually destroy another living thing? I'm appalled." Helga said, dramatically placing a hand over her heart and sighing.

"It might be poisonous…" he said, his voice starting to quiver. He was trying with all his might to keep his eyes off her finger.

"Arnold, have you seen someone about this spider phobia?"

"Arachnophobia. And no, I don't think I have to." he replied, matter-of-factly. "Besides…" he began. "I happen to know a blonde with a very distinct and irrational fear of rats. What is that, ratophobia?"

"It's musiphobia, and it's a serious medical condition." Helga retorted, watching as the spider crawled off of her finger and onto the windowsill, leaving a shred of gossamer thread on her extended appendage.

"Either way, I'd rather not think about that right now…" Arnold said, leaning upon the doorpost of the bathroom door, defiantly.

"I'm leaving in a minute…so, um…try and…put a shirt on or something…" Helga said, turning back to her suitcase.

"Where are we going?" he asked, after finally turning back to the bathroom.

The sound of shower rings against the rod that suspended them made a slow hum, and Helga knew he was checking for more eight legged beasts. "I really don't know; I was hoping to get some laundry done…"

"Laundry? Your last day in this amazing city, and you want to do laundry?" Arnold said, raising his voice with the whirr of the now running shower water.

"Fine, I won't do any laundry today…what do you suggest then?" Helga asked, refilling her suitcase as the blush silently disappeared from her face.

"Sight-seeing or something. Anything but _laundry_." he said, repeating the word as if it were something sour.

"Sight-seeing…how utterly exciting…" Helga replied sarcastically.

"Well, unless you have a better idea…"

"We'll find something to do."

&&&&&&

"Do you think you could try and help me with m bags, like a gentleman?" Helga said, trying to stack her bags on top of the only one with wheels, and pull it down the empty hallway. Unfortunately, one of them would occasionally fall off, causing her to stop and pick it up, making the other bag fall off as well. After a few attempts, she eventually gave into frustration and asked for help.

"I don't see why we have to take our bags down now…we're not leaving for a few hours." Arnold complained, snatching the smallest (and lightest) bag from the top of Helga's pile.

"Simple. Mr. Willis doesn't want to get blamed if someone leaves something here."

&&&&&

"We need a cab!" Helga yelled over the sounds of the New York evening, already hailing a taxi. It was dark outside, but Helga knew that every taxi passing them wasn't turning off their lights by accident. She was still shocked that they were so careless in watching the clock to begin with.

"That'll take forever, we can just walk…" Arnold said, stepping on the curb.

"No, walking will take forever. Especially with Phoebe's bum leg. We have to get to the train station in less than ten minutes, and a cab is the only way to get there."

"This is taking forever…" Gerald sighed, wiping his brow.

"Hold on…" Arnold said, removing himself from the curb. Stepping out from behind the black Saturn that was parked on the curb next to him, Arnold began hailing a cab in the worst and possibly most dangerous way.

"Arnold, what are you doing!" Helga said, from the side of the curb.

Gerald, Phoebe and Helga uniformly jumped backwards as a bright, yellow cab pulled up a few inches in front of Arnold, before stopping abruptly. All breathed a sigh of relief as Arnold moved to the driver's side of the cab and the window edged its way down.

"Whadda you want?" the cabbie asked, a cigarette hanging from one side of his mouth, and a cup of coffee in his right hand.

"We need a ride to the train station up on 34th. How soon can you get there?" Arnold asked.

"I'm a'right, I mean, this traffic ain't nothing' serious." the cabbie replied, before inhaling deeply through his nostrils.

Arnold retreated back to the curb, motioning for everyone to get in. "Phoebe, you get in the front. The three of us will have to sit in the back."

As Arnold and Gerald helped Phoebe off of the curb, Helga made sure it was clear for them to open the door. The cabbie leaned over his clutch, attempting to open the passenger door from the inside of the cab. Helga got to the handle first and the cabbie drew back. His elbow knocked against the clutch, and his fingers spread, releasing the coffee cup on the already dirty seat of his cab.

Phoebe looked back at her friends in slight desperation. There was no way she could fit comfortably with everyone in the backseat of that stuff cab, and it was too late to try and hail another one.

"Alright then. Plan B: We're gonna have to all squeeze in the back." Helga said, shutting the front door and opening the back door on the right side of the cab.

"What?" Gerald asked. Of course, the idea had crossed his mind as well, but the thought of actually doing it seemed unlikely.

"Gerald, you'll get in first, then me, then Arnold, and Phoebe will just have to sit on top of all of us…" Helga stated, a hint of doubt in her voice.

Gerald climbed in first, then Phoebe. She held up her legs so that Helga could slip in, then Arnold. After everyone had gotten into the cab as comfortably as possible, Arnold shut the door, and the cabbie resumed driving. Arnold leaned forward and reminded the driver where they were headed.

After a few brief minutes, the cab driver pulled into (rather quickly) the parking lot of the train station, which was mysteriously empty, minus a few cars. As Gerald slid out and slowly pulled Phoebe with him, Arnold handed the driver twenty dollars, even though the charge was just over half.

"Ya wantcha change?" the cabbie asked, through Arnold's open door. Everyone replied in perfect unison: "NO!"

Between the parking lot and the actual train was the train station, a small building with nothing but a service desk, two rows of chairs and a very bored looking station manager inside. Out side of the train station, Helga stopped the group, coming to a slightly nervous halt.

"What's the deal?" Gerald asked, getting frustrated. Not only was the train that was to take him home about to leave, but Phoebe wasn't getting any lighter.

"Mr. Willis has our tickets."

"So?" Gerald asked, not grasping the relevancy of Helga's statement.

"So, how are we supposed to get on the train?"

Before Helga, Gerald, or Phoebe could conger up a plan, Arnold spoke. "I know what we can do."

"What?" Helga asked.

"Just follow my lead, okay?" he said to Helga. "You", he began to Gerald. "and Phoebe head towards the door."

Helga was unsure about Arnold's "plan". She was used to not trusting him, since all (or most) of his motives were lead by his heart. In this case, however, she found it an advantage. Leaving Gerald and Phoebe outside momentarily, Arnold and Helga proceeded inside. As soon as they'd stepped inside, Arnold seized Helga's hand in his own, and walked her over to the front service desk.

Helga wasn't sure why exactly he'd done that, until he began to speak.

"Sir." Arnold started, attempting to get the attention of the station manager. "Excuse me, please."

The station manager turned around, rather slowly, and revealed a plain, white nametag with the name Hugh etched into it, pinned onto a navy blue uniform. His wide face wore a bored and listless expression, accompanied by a straight line of a mouth hidden by a bristly mustache. His facial gestures underwent no changes upon seeing Arnold and Helga, which neither of them anticipated. Either way, Arnold adjusted to fit the situation.

"What can I do for ya?" Hugh asked, leaning on the counter that separated himself from Arnold and Helga.

"Hi. My name is Wally, and this…" he said, motioning to Helga. "is Cookie. My girlfriend."

Helga's eyes immediately darted from Arnold to the station manager, which went unnoticed by both. Finally remembering to "go along" with Arnold's plan, Helga decided to just smile like she knew what was going on.

"Anyway, we were here a while ago and left a very important bag here. WE were hoping we could get it back." Arnold stated, still smiling.

"Folks leave bag here everyday. Mind describing it to me?' Hugh said, motioning farther away from the desk to look under it.

"Well, it's about so long," Arnold said, separating his hands, while still holding one of Helga's. "Dark brown, sort of a leathery material-"

"Leather substitute. Because we love Mother Earth." Helga remarked, adding her two cents in, rather abruptly. She nodded at the station manager, then at Arnold so he could continue.

The station manager's eyes shot around under the service desk, before returning to Arnold and Helga. "Well, I can check if there' something like that in the back. Y'all hold on for a minute, okay?"

Arnold and Helga nodded in reply, while gesturing behind their backs. Quietly, Gerald crept into the train station, carrying Phoebe over his shoulder, and closed he door silently behind him. Advancing to the door that led to the platform of the train, Gerald stopped unexpectedly when the station manager's voice boomed from the back room.

"I don't see anything like that back here…"

Arnold and Helga looked from their friends to the doorway where the voice was getting closer and closer.

"Wait!" Helga said, not quite sure who she was talking to. "I…uh, I think…"

"What's that?" the station manager said, still occupied in the back room.

"I think…I think it was a black bag…" Helga called towards the back.

"What?" Arnold and the station manager said in perfect unison.

"Yes! It was a black bag…with, uh…a zipper, right honey?" She said, rather loudly, tugging at Arnold's arm, trying to prod him towards the door, while signaling to Gerald to keep going. Slowly backing up, she attempted to keep the station manager in the back room.

"A black bag, you say?"

"Yes, very, very small and uh…covered in…rabbit fur."

"Rabbit fur? I thought y'all was…hello?" the station manager asked, poking his head around the doorway back closet, noticing no one in the lobby.

"That was insane!"

"I cannot believe you said that! Rabbit fur? Where'd that come from?"

"Hey, you're one to talk, Ms. Nature-Lover. Where'd _that _come from?"

"Well, you were telling this whole big lie without me. I wanted to be included." Helga replied, still laughing.

Across from them, Gerald and Phoebe were looking relatively, if not completely confused. Before either of them could ask for an explanation, a portly figure was making its way in the direction of their car.

"We've got company, you guys…" Gerald said, not so much fearing for he and Phoebe, knowing the station manager had not seen him, but for Arnold and Helga, who he could easily identify. But then again, none of them had tickets anyway.

Helga stood up immediately, reaching upwards into the overhead compartment, which, unfortunately, could barely hold anything but a medium-sized handbag.

"What? You're gonna hide up there? Thanks for abandoning the rest of us…" Gerald said.

"Here. Hurry." Helga said, tossing a plastic covered package onto the laps of Phoebe, Gerald and Arnold, and taking one for herself. Tearing the plastic off, Helga spread the contents over herself and waited for everyone else to follow.

"Hey Hugh, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be manning the service desk…"

"Some kids snuck on the train. We need to get them before we shove off." The station manager said, eyeing every teen on the train.

"Is there a problem?" Mr. Willis asked, standing up from his seat that was nearby his current conversation. The station manager eyed him as well, before speaking.

"I'm afraid some kids have snuck onto the train. I suspect they're on this car."

"Well, all the kids on this car are students of mine. But feel free to look…" Mr. Willis said, reluctantly stepping aside.

Helga turned away, squeezing her eyes shut as the footsteps approached where she, Arnold, Phoebe and Gerald were seated. The less than strategic idea she had by letting her hair out of its ponytail was only part of the "plan".

"There! Those two!" the station manager said rather loudly.

"What?" Mr. Willis said, walking over to inspect the station manager's culprits.

"Those two, the blondes! They were at my desk not ten minutes ago!"

Mr. Willis was growing frustrated. The station manager, in a feeble attempt to belittle Mr. Willis, felt the need to hold up all ten of his fingers for emphasis. "I can assure you that these are indeed my students, and _furthermore_, I watched them enter this train almost 20 minutes ago. So, Mr.…" he peered at the nametag. "Hugh, I would appreciate it if you would kindly leave my students alone."

The station manager walked away, muttering obscenities, and off of the train.

As soon as the station manager was out of earshot, Mr. Willis smiled and turned back to his four faux-sleeping students, each covered with their own gray blanket. "You can wake up now…" he said.

"Thanks Mr. Willis…" Helga said, pulling the blanket from around her shoulders.

"I'll admit I was concerned when the four of you weren't one the bus earlier." he stated, before heading back to his seat.

Before long, the train began trudging forward and the station slowly disappeared behind them.

"Well, today was certainly eventful…" Gerald said, looking at each one of his friends.

"This entire vacation was "eventful"…" Helga said, leaning backwards, trying to get comfortable. Without thinking, she spread her fingers, forgetting for a moment that they were still wrapped around Arnolds. Thinking she was uncomfortable with him still holding her hand, Arnold pulled his away quickly.

Helga sensed his reaction, and wanted to apologize (for what she wasn't sure), but now wasn't the right time. The sun was setting, and she grew more and more tired until she drifted off to sleep.

"…I repeat, if you did not drive, and your guardians are not outside waiting for you, I have a cell phone you can use. Please remove any bags you may have brought onto the train with you. All luggage is outside on the platform…"

Arnold listened half-heartedly as Mr. Willis repeated himself. People were moving slowly off of the train, giving him a few minutes to ready himself for movement. Rotating his neck, he began stretching his muscles slowly. While attempting to pivot his shoulders, he found it particularly hard to move his left one. Despite the darkness, he was able to discern that the weight he felt on his shoulder was a result of Helga falling asleep in it. Moving his left shoulder as gently as possible, he tried to wake up Helga. She sat up for a moment, blinked rapidly for a few seconds and leaned her head onto the cold glass window of the train.

Directly across from them, Gerald was doing the same, only under different circumstances. Prodding Phoebe to wake up, while trying to keep her from further injuring her leg was a problem. After he'd properly lifted her leg out of his lap and onto the floor so that she wouldn't try to lift it onto the floor herself, he tried to wake her up. Her reaction was pretty much identical to Helga's, although she cooperated with Gerald and began moving.

"Hey, c'mon…wake up." Arnold said, in a raspy voice he hadn't used in a few hours. He cleared his voice again, which woke Helga up more effectively than did his voice.

Realizing where she was, both on a train that was no longer moving and Arnold's shoulder, Helga popped up, and removed her thin, gray blanket. Running her hands over her face, she was about to get up until she noticed Phoebe half way standing, making her take her seat again. Under her window, two train ushers were swiftly removing the luggage from the lower compartments of the train. She spotted her own bags being thrown atop the large pile, only to be covered by someone else's bags.

By the time she had snapped out of her daze, Phoebe was already out of her seat, and limping down the aisle (with Gerald's assistance). Helga shook the sleep off of her, and stood up, her back, shoulders and arms all cracking loudly.

"That's still disgusting." Arnold said, in front of her.

Helga shrugged it off, causing one final crack to escape from her shoulder. Out side, she dug in one spot for her largest duffle bag. After retrieving it, she sauntered over to the parking lot where Gerald, Phoebe and Arnold.

"What time is it?" Phoebe asked, looking at Gerald as he dug his cell phone from his back pocket.

"2:17 AM." He said, sleepily.

"We're almost an hour early…" Helga said, leaning on a nearby pole. "Well…I guess you guys could crash at my house" Helga remarked, not sure of the reaction it would receive from her friends. "I mean, my parents aren't home, Olga's probably asleep, and you guys can stay until morning.

After everyone agreed on their plan of action and piled into Arnold's car, Arnold drove out of the parking lot and towards Helga's house. Helga had volunteered to sit in the backseat with Phoebe, while Gerald occupied the front next to Arnold. In his rearview mirror, Arnold noticed Helga and Phoebe peering (and occasionally) laughing at something that sent off a dim blue light.

"What is that?" Gerald said, turning around in his seat.

"Pictures from today..." Phoebe said before passing the camera up to Gerald. Since the road was virtually empty, Arnold took a peek from the road to glance at the pictures. Unfortunately, Gerald was scrolling too fast for him to keep up with, so he gave up. Pulling up to Helga's house, everyone got out of the car relatively quickly (save for Phoebe), while Helga unlocked the front door to her home. Next to the front door, she flipped on the outside light and all of the ones downstairs.

Once everyone was inside and their luggage packed into the downstairs closet, Helga ran upstairs to retrieve blankets and pillows for everyone. Olga was nowhere in sight, so she took the pillows from her room, seeing as they were mostly unused and probably the cleanest in the house.

Back downstairs, Helga threw the pillows and blankets in assorted places of the room. She chose the floor, the humblest sleeping place in the room, and left the two couches and recliner to be divided amongst her friends.

Entering the kitchen, Helga caught the last few words of the conversation.

"So?" Arnold asked Gerald.

"So, I'm clearly three hours overdue for my midnight snack!" Gerald said, receiving a tired groan from Arnold and Phoebe. Helga rolled her eyes and opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a clear, plastic tupperware container. After closing the refrigerator and setting the container on the counter, she lifted the lid and sniffed its contents.

"Spaghetti. You can warm it if you want." She said, handing the container to Gerald. After thanking her graciously, Gerald grabbed a fork from the drying tray on the counter and began eating.

After everyone (Gerald included) settled down, the four filed into the living room and decided where they were going to sleep. After it was straightened out that Gerald would take the recliner, Arnold the couch, leaving the largest couch for Phoebe, Helga turned off all the lights and everybody took their places. Everyone said "Goodnight" to one another, despite the fact that they'd all be waking up in a few hours. But that was overshadowed seeing as they were all asleep within ten minutes.

&&&&&&&&

As the rays of early sunlight streamed into the living room, Helga awoke and instinctively headed towards the kitchen. Moving silently, so as not to wake up any of her friends, Helga turned on the small coffee maker on the kitchen counter and replaced the filter. Walking over to the fridge, she searched for something edible that may have been left over (seeing as Gerald had finished off all of the spaghetti), but settled with making frozen waffles. Sticking eight out of ten of them into the toaster oven, Helga took a seat at the dining table and waited for her coffee to finish. Half asleep, she was slightly startled by the sound of her front door closing. She lifted her head up to see Arnold focused on some hand-held object, about to walk right past the dining room.

"Up so early?" she said, getting his attention.

"I could say the same for you. What are you doing?" he said, resting what Helga found was the digital camera she and Phoebe were looking at on the car ride over last night on the table, and took a seat next to her.

"Making provisions for the troops." She said, letting her head fall on the tabletop. "Those pictures from yesterday?"

"Yeah. Too bad there aren't any from the entire trip."

"I think yesterday was pretty unforgettable all by itself." Helga said, laughing.

"_I_ think certain events beforehand were pretty unforgettable." Arnold said, smirking in Helga's direction.

"You're never gonna let me live that down are you?" Helga said comically, after a long pause.

"I SMELL WAFFLES!" Gerald bellowed from the living room.

Helga turned towards the noise, her arms still crossed. She watched as Arnold stood up. Instead of heading out into the living room, or at least into the kitchen, he leaned in towards her so closely she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck. "Who said I wanted to?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Ugh. I'm stuffed…" Gerald said, leaning back from the dining table.

"That's a first."

"What time is it?" Phoebe said, collecting the plates around her until Helga stopped her and carried them to the sink.

"8:15." Helga said, peering at the clock in the kitchen. She decided to leave the dishes in the sink to do later.

"I have to get home. My parents have probably called the National Guard by now." Phoebe said, hugging Helga and hobbling towards the front door. "Do you mind giving me a ride Arnold?"

"Yeah, me too." Gerald piped in.

"Sure. Let's go." He said, getting up from the table. Helga noticed that all during breakfast, he'd glance at her momentarily and then distract himself somehow, but now, he was about to leave without so much as a goodbye.

"Bye you guys…" Helga called from the doorway as everyone exited. When they were at Arnold's car, Helga closed the door. Proper Etiquette or one of those books that Olga was always trying to get her to read said that seeing your guests to the door was polite; watching them drive off was just plain weird.

Just as Helga decided to give in and do the dishes, the doorbell rang. Opening the door, she saw Arnold facing the opposite direction. He noticed the creaking of the door after only a few seconds and whirled around.

"Oh hey, Phoebe wanted me to tell you to call her later."

"Okay." Helga replied quietly.

"See you later then…" he said, turning around.

As soon as Helga was about to close the door (again), she noticed Arnold rushing back towards the door. "Yes?" she asked, when he'd reached her.

"One more thing…"

Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her head up until she was looking him right in the eyes. Seizing her lips in his momentarily, he backed away and smiled at the now dumbfounded Helga.

The kiss lasted for only a second, but Helga read the signs loud and clear. This senior trip was far from over.

"Call me later…" he said, backing away.

Helga merely nodded and closed the door slowly. Collapsing on the floor, she blushed furiously and got up to start the dishes.

The End

&&&&&&&&

I know this is really long, but I wanted to get it up, and there was no place at all that felt right to separate it, so there she is: the final chapter of Ruthless. And for the first time, it's on time! I wanted to get it up by August 10 (that was my last update…can you believe that? Practically a year!) then I changed it to July 25, because it's my friend's B-day, hence the Codename Kids Next Door reference. And it's officially July 22. So by the time you read this it should be…later.

I'm kinda sad to see this end, but at least now I don't have to worry about that annoying little voice waking me up saying "UPDATE RUTHIE!" So. That's all, folks. See ya on the flip side.

And a special note to SteJay (dude…can I call you that? Because it just came to me, just now…whoa…) a.k.a. BaldOneMpls, the main reason I posted this without your input wasn't because I changed my mind or anything. I still think you're an amazing writer and you should give yourself more credit. I'm not 100 sure, something made me think that I should at least try to finish this on my own, seeing as it's my first story. Call it a rite of passage, or something. But don't think that I wouldn't have whole-heartedly appreciated your help. And I'd still like to join forces with you someday. So thank for reading, and reviewing, and…everything! Peace!

-PointyO


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